World of the Machine
by IronForce
Summary: Bren McGuire is selected for training in the elite unit equipped with Turrican fighting suits. Soon, he finds himself fighting for his life, and for the survival of all mankind, on a supremely hostile artificial planet under the Machine's control.
1. Intro

**_Author's note: Written during NaNoWriMo 2017. This fanfiction repurposes Turrican story elements, levels and characters fairly liberally, and introduces several OCs. In the process, the "lone warrior" aspect of Turrican games is somewhat underplayed, the story takes fairly heavy influence from works like Top Gun & Starship Troopers, and there is fairly absurd humor dealing with the preservation of some thousand-year old works, so approach with caution. But hopefully you enjoy!_**

 ** _ ** _Thanks to T & M for inspiration & contributions, mentioned in the later chapters!_**_**

 ** _Thanks to Manfred Trenz & Factor 5 for the best action game series of the 8 / 16-bits! _**

**_Thanks to Matthew Reilly for a certain scene which was paid homage to!_**

 ** _\- IronForce_**

* * *

 **Intro**

Though the United Planets Freedom Forces' starship Avalon 1 had been Bren McGuire's home for the past weeks, with the lights down to emergency level and most of the systems out of commission, its corridors had suddenly transformed into a grotesque nightmare, danger potentially lurking behind every corner.

Bren gripped his phaser gun hard. There was a degree of safety from knowing it had still roughly half of the power cell left, in addition to the two fresh ones in his pockets. But he was aware how woefully under-powered the weapon would be in a fight against an overwhelming enemy.

The bio-engineered half-mutant-half-machine horde certainly was one. They had poured out from the super-battlecruiser that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, and wiped out – as far as Bren was aware – everyone else who had tried to fight them.

There was a T-junction coming up, and he stopped to listen. Nothing, except the almost painful pounding of his heart.

It was clear, at least for the moment.

He had survived the onslaught by playing dead, and it was possible all the enemies had already left.

However, he could not take that chance.

As the main power was out, the enemies did not even need to fight him: the Avalon 1 was crippled, and he would slowly die as soon as the emergency power ran out, taking the life support systems down as well.

Bren advanced and turned right, which was the way to the ship's armory.

Bitterness crossed his mind as he thought of the advanced Turrican fighting suits stored in their powering-up cradles, completely unused during the invasion. Though they were state-of-the-art, putting one on and activating it was still far too slow, so the crew had just defended themselves with what they had at hand at the moment, including handguns and standard projectile- and phaser-proof vests.

Several systems should have caught the invading horde: auto-turrets both on the outside and the inside, singularity generators, moving laser grids that would slice any organic matter and even most metal into neat cubes, EMP generators and neutron beams.

But somehow they all had failed.

The battlecruiser had used some unknown technology to disable them all, and the invaders had proceeded to cut through the airlock, followed by their leader, the fearsome towering robot-emperor they referred to as the Machine.

Bren still felt disgust as he thought of the Machine's steel boot stomping on his pretend-dead body. It would have crushed his chest with just a bit more force.

But the Machine had apparently been satisfied with the carnage already, and had retreated back into its cruiser. It was possible Bren had been spared just to deliver a message, to tell the UPFF high command that this was an enemy too impossible to fight against, that mankind would just have to submit.

Fuck! Bren cursed inwardly. Too much had already happened for that to be possible. All the lives lost, all the colonies and space stations ravaged.

He could not of course dictate UPFF policy alone. But by now it was clear that he would rather choose death in war than slow death by submission and slavery. And the rest of mankind should make the exact same decision.

The Turrican suit activation procedure would make a lot of noise. It would certainly alert the enemies if any remained aboard. But right now Bren felt an almost fatalistic defiance.

Enough running and hiding.

Let them come to him. Then, they would taste the power of the suit ... or kill him where he stood. Either would be fine.

Bren knew he needed to keep his emotions in check better. Again.

If he died, all of his training would go to waste. One less to defend all of human civilization against this horde. Who knew if he was just the tipping point? He did not think of himself as a hero in the truest sense. Certainly, he did not imagine that he would be the sole force of reckoning and change. No, just hard statistics. Every man and woman counted.

He entered the armory.

At the back wall, the imposing, gleaming steel Turrican suits waited in their cradles. Most importantly, there was a promising green light on each of them, telling that there was still enough backup juice for activation.

Maybe activating one would mean one less hour of oxygen or something – Bren was not sure of the exact amount – but it mattered little. The suit had an air regenerator mechanism that would provide days' worth of oxygen in any case. Enough to get the ship powered up – if the repair droids would still work – or to call for help and hope for another UPFF vessel within short-distance FTL range to come to his aid.

Or – to even go after the invading force with a Katakis class fighter, which were stored in the hangar bay.

That would be a certain sign of a death wish though, something the instructors had warned of during the Turrican training.

Wearing the suit could make you think you were invincible, while you only were near-invincible. Walking that fine line was what being a Turrican was all about, and they had examined that thoroughly in the simulated scenarios. But Bren could not be sure of how successful it had been in the end.

After all, simulation was simulation, while only reality mattered. And in reality you only had one shot. Sometimes the right choice would be all guns blazing.

Fuck. Too much thinking already. Bren climbed the few steps to reach the cradle in the center. With a light mechanical whir, it rotated and the suit began to open, calibrating itself for Bren's physique.

Bren looked to the displays on the left and the right, which showed complex diagnostic information. The diagnostics procedures had been drilled in their minds relentlessly during the early training too, yet now Bren felt all of them recede into a haze. Once in the suit, it would provide information in a far more concise manner, suitable for digestion in the middle of war.

Bren could not shake the feeling, no matter how reckless, that war was what he wanted now. Both as part of his duty to the UPFF, and on a deeply personal level. The Machine would certainly not lay a boot on him for the second time.

Bren laughed to himself, and the laugh echoed eerily from the armory's alloy walls. That was not just an idle boast, but cold reality: the suit could be programmed to explode upon operator death, often taking out multiple enemies with it.


	2. World 1-1

**World 1-1**

 _Three months earlier_

The warmth of the sun was close to unbearable for someone not used to it, like Bren. But it certainly was something different from the endless black space, the bland artificially generated skies of the Starport, or the sterile fluorescent light of the military Academy's classrooms.

Bren opened his eyes to take in the beach and the green ocean before him. There was just a small voice nagging at the back of his head that it was not real, but he did not let it bother him too much. At least the UV radiation from the ceiling light panels was real enough, actually resulting in a tan if used long enough.

Not needing to get up from the deck chair he had unfolded in the middle of his dormitory room, Bren brought up the Link interface with a tap of his finger, and ordered another cold beer.

The dispenser slot opened, and that was an unavoidable breach of the illusion, but Bren could tolerate it. At least the sound of the beer can opening was still a hundred percent real. That was something mankind had not yet managed to mess up in the five hundred years of post-Earth existence. Even if the beverage itself was already synthetic.

Bren was certain his consumption would be tracked, and assessed by someone (or probably by just a computer) in the vast systems of the United Planets Freedom Forces.

Well, screw them. He had received confirmation of being accepted in the Turrican special forces training program, which would begin tomorrow, and that was enough cause for celebration and relaxation.

Bren was now at the rank of Lieutenant. The UPFF had done away with strict division into branches of service – everything it was doing was various forms of space warfare anyway. He had started in the ground forces, but soon transferred to piloting a Katakis class all-directional fighter. Now he would be sort of going back to where he started.

During the training, it would matter little that he was already a commissioned officer. He would be sweating and grinding along with the enlisted personnel, and barked at by the instructors just like all of them.

Bren sunk back to the illusion before his eyes.

Of course it did not allow him to actually go swimming in the ocean. But for now, the vista was enough. The only thing missing still was music to fit the mood.

Bren brought the interface up for a second time. Every citizen had the Link, whose display was implanted directly in the retina for unprecedented image sharpness and realism, plus secondary implants in the ears and throat for audio input and output. The miniature processor it required would typically be installed in the wrist, to allow later upgrades.

The whole system operated directly on the body's own bio-electricity, allowing one to receive and transmit data anywhere on UPFF-governed planets or facilities. More advanced versions of the Link were also in development, interfacing directly with the user's brain. That was something Bren was not ready for personally, though many apparently were.

There was of course the concern that when you used the Link, the government knew each second where you were, as the system could not ever be switched off, but as far as Bren was concerned, it was a force for good. If you did not break laws, where was the harm? There had been cases where operators had been found digging user data that they were not supposed to, but the hammer of justice had struck quickly.

Space pirates, raiders and secessionists would naturally choose to exist outside the Link, but their threat was at this point rather minimal, and Bren thought the UPFF almost just let them be. Most of the illicit activity would not even get reported to the general public, to keep it causing undue distress or escalating unrest.

But in that case, what was the threat they would be training for? Using the Turrican suits' overpowering weaponry against the disorganized criminals and rebels seemed unfair. Even the missions he had flown in Katakis squadrons against the pirate outposts had been a demonstration of definite power imbalance. But this would be taking it onto whole another level.

Well, tomorrow he would possibly know better. And enough of musing over anything unpleasant. The music had to be chosen.

Bren navigated the list to G.

There were some artists who had stood the test of time, even after a thousand years. And this was Bren's personal favorite, one he had found completely by chance. Their output was very much inspirational, hinting of great adventures against mysterious forces, like the aliens or the Illuminati, neither of which had materialized in reality even after all this time, but that did not make the songs any less worthy.

 _Artist: Gamma Ray_

 _Album: The Land of the Free_

 _Track: Rebellion in Dreamland_

The song began with a relaxing guitar line, soon joined by the singer, building into a crescendo. Bren sunk back in the deck chair and took a long sip of the beer.

For a moment he was amused as he thought of the lyrics. They were from the perspective of a rebel opposed by a vast faceless government. Like a dark version of the UPFF. Listening to this song might not exactly look good on a military psychological report. But Bren knew his side, and would not have chosen anything else.

* * *

Bren was running late. It was a shame for a Lieutenant of the UPFF to be lost inside the Academy's corridors, but Bren had to admit that was the case now. The Turrican program was to begin in a lecture hall he had never been to before.

Bren had the Link's map display superimposed on his view as he almost ran, but in the heat of the confusion, it did not help much.

He should have woken up earlier. It was not exactly a hangover, but the beer certainly had contributed. He wondered to what degree he would be chewed out, and somewhat cynically, if a biochemical analysis provided by the Link (if it could actually provide that – that was not in the current version official feature list) would be used to back that up.

He rounded a corner, aiming for the nearest staircase leading upward. The hall was to be on the third floor, and Bren was sure he could not be that far off.

Suddenly he nearly collided with another UPFF officer.

He too wore the insignia of Lieutenant on his shoulders. But In contrast to Bren's wavy purple hair, he was strictly up to an old-school military standard, with his black hair in a perfect crew cut. Bren was sure he had seen this guy before somewhere, but did not know him by name.

"Sorry," Bren said, sure his face was going flushed from the combined shame of both the near-miss, and not being prepared enough to navigate correctly.

"You going to the Turrican training kickoff?" the guy asked in reply.

His expression was friendly enough, but behind it Bren thought he saw a hard edge, measuring him up. Still, Bren thought this was going to be his sudden lucky break.

"Yeah. I'm Bren McGuire."

"Kris Escher."

They shook hands quickly, and Bren started following.

* * *

Just in time, Kris and Bren took seats near the back of the medium-sized lecture hall, which was well over half-full. Bren recognized the man on the podium, an older Colonel with a graying mullet. He was Manfred Trench, head of the Turrican program himself. To be in his audience right now was an honor Bren had not strictly speaking been prepared for. Conversely, being late would have been extra-mortifying.

As the clock struck precisely 0800 hours, the Colonel began to speak.

"Personnel of the UPFF. You are here to take part in our most advanced special forces training, the Turrican program. You have made a good choice. Possibly the best choice of your lives. But I'm not going to bullshit you: not everyone is going to make it through. I could go through the program structure in minute detail, of everything that will be expected of you, of the Turrican suit features and weapon systems, of the simulations we will be running as well as live-fire exercises, but I thought I'd start with something more interesting. Of why we are ramping up the program exactly now."

Manfred paused, and a near-silence descended. Bren remembered his questions yesterday.

It seemed he would get the answers right away.

"What you're about to hear is classified information. It is not to be repeated to anyone outside this hall or outside the Turrican program."

That was to be expected; often the UPFF classified even completely mundane information. But yet Bren felt his excitement rise, almost to a childish degree. He looked to his side and saw Kris betray no especial emotion. That was certainly the manner more fitting at his exact moment.

"I will give the podium to Captain Rayna Becker from the Intelligence division. She will go through the … sightings that have necessitated the acceleration of the Turrican program."

Bren thought there was a sudden unsureness in Manfred' voice, unexpected for the father of Turrican. Unless this was something truly unsettling. Like aliens. Or the Illuminati. Bren's mind already fast-forwarded to several scenarios.

Just a few moments ago he had been concerned only of his chances of making it through the program, now he thought of UPFF and the whole mankind potentially being on the verge of some unexpected discovery. An epic adventure. Or even a grave danger threatening all of its existence.

Bren looked to Kris again, and saw his mouth curl into a smile. It seemed out of place. But then Bren understood. A woman almost as tall as the Colonel, wearing the light-blue Intelligence uniform, rose up from the front seat and walked swiftly up to the podium. She could certainly be described as attractive, but Bren was glad he could keep his mind strictly in a military frame. After all, he was seeing someone.

The Captain appeared all-business too, but in a slightly odd way, like she was not paying much attention to the class at all, and would have preferred to be elsewhere. She had her head bowed so that the short but not-exactly-up-to-standard blonde hair almost covered her eyes, apparently preparing now.

The Link gave a slight vibration in his ear and notified Bren of an externally transmitted presentation about to begin. Within the hall, it would not be possible to dismiss.

"Right," Rayna began to speak in a hurried voice. "Two months ago our automated probes captured the first images that we couldn't explain. These cannot be natural formations, neither they are man-made. We have no colonies, neither UPFF or secessionist, in that region."

An image showing the vast blackness of space overrode Bren's field of view. At first he did not understand. What was there to see?

Then he understood there was a regular lattice, appearing very dark but yet distinguishable, seemingly suspended in the void and obscuring the stars. It had to be some kind of metal. Again, Bren's mind raced. Who had built that? In the middle of space?

More images followed, depicting more of these metal formations, some of them actual larger solid pieces, ragged from their edges. All drifting in the emptiness.

"We consulted with our scientists. Their explanation did not make much sense to us then. They said it's debris from an artificial planet reconstructing itself."

Rayna paused to let the information sink in. But only for a few seconds, then she continued just as breathlessly.

"We directed the probes into the direction opposite of the formations' average drift vector, to find the source. The probes were lost, but before that they captured this."

A short video clip played. It showed more blackness, more stars. Then bright flashes of light, and the image cutting to white noise and freezing. The Captain rewound the video just a few seconds and paused.

Against the stars, Bren could see the shape of an insect-like small craft. A fighter, certainly, that had fired at the probe and destroyed it.

"Again, we verified that this craft design does not originate from us."

A hand rose from the audience. Bren found his mind racing too much and into too many directions simultaneously to even have contemplated doing the same, but if someone else could, good for them.

"Yes?"

"Is this proof of an alien contact?" a man asked.

"Yes and no. Not in the classic sense, meaning an another race of advanced biological entities. After this incident, we launched combat probes with stealth capability, and observed. We found these are machines, highly sentient and organized. No actual signs of life were detected."

Another video clip played. In the light of a distant sun, a formation of the insect-shaped ships crossed the camera field of view.

"And that's not all. In the weeks that followed the initial sightings, similar encounters have happened closer. Deep-space mining ships have already been attacked. Just two days ago, a small colony went dark. There have not been any communications from the machines, no demands or declarations, but we must interpret these as acts of war. Because of the potential for mass panic, preparedness is being ramped up on made up pretenses. I hate that. But we certainly have to prepare. I'd hope all of you would graduate, but that's out of my hands."

Rayna stepped down from the podium, and the Colonel resumed, to speak of the program itself.

But Bren could not really pay attention to most of what he was saying, besides the three-phase basic structure of the program: 1) Lectures and suit operation training 2) Simulator battle exercises 3) Large-scale outdoor live battle exercises.

Instead, he found his thoughts still circling restlessly over the unexpected outer space sightings, and to add further insult, in terms of Gamma Ray's lyrics. There were supersonic killers in the sky. And it could be the abyss of the void opening up before him.

* * *

Bren had not quite imagined the training to begin this way. After a few lectures familiarizing them with the basic parts, systems and operation of the Turrican bipedal exoskeleton fighting suit, and an introduction to the simulators to which they would return in the second phase of the training, the fifty of them had descended to a spacious armory on the academy's sublevel, to begin using the suits in practice –

The catch was that the suit was not powered up at first. The point was to first learn the emergency operating procedures, how to get in and out of the suit even in the case of total power failure. So there Bren was panting heavily, behind the closed helmet visor, feeling sweat running down his back.

"Reach for the emergency release handles on both sides where the upper and lower exoskeleton connect!" the instructor's voice on Bren's side of the armory boomed.

He was Captain Damon Thorne, and the name was fitting. He was like a thorn in their asses, Bren thought. The class had been divided in two, and Captain Achim Schmidt was working on the other twenty-five potential future Turricans.

"Then pull back and twist!"

For some agonizing seconds Bren thought the handles weren't where they were supposed to be. Maybe he had already twisted the exoskeleton into some impossible position. At last, he found something that resembled the handles, and yanked with both hands.

The suit opened and collapsed in a heap, and Bren got out in potentially the most ungraceful manner possible. He caught sight of Kris to his side, grinning and apparently out of his suit much sooner and much more elegantly.

Then, the next step would be getting back in without power, and it would be practiced over and over until Damon would be satisfied.

Still sweating and breathing quickly, Bren cursed.

Thankfully it was going to get better. And Bren could understand the motivation, because one had to be able to do the same while under enemy fire.

Also, a part of him craved the masochism, did not want an easy way out in life, but to be tested and toughened. That was possibly a large part of why he had wanted to join the military in the first place.

That, and to be provided meaning.

Bren had not been sure he was going to find it on his own, remembered how he had feared the potential other directions he could have ended up in. Like becoming a VR junkie. Or even getting involved in crime. Though post-Earth society had managed to create an existence where most suffering and violence had been eliminated, in return it was notoriously harsh on those that did not fit in the blueprint and did not find their place properly.

Bren began collecting the exoskeleton parts, propping them back up on their small support legs, to remain upright until the operator finished getting back in. When powered up, the suit would adjust to the user's height and weight, but now it was in the default setting, which was a bit too large for Bren.

That was still better than too small; Bren could see some of the trainees struggling with that too. There were more concealed handles on the inside of the suit for doing size adjustments manually in the non-powered state, but using them required much strength.

"So, this Intelligence officer. She was hot in a nervous way," Kris remarked next to Bren while preparing his suit similarly.

Standard military banter. Sometimes it would simply get old, Bren thought. And he had been too enthralled by the space metal formations themselves to pay attention. Could an officer just be an officer, even if she was the opposite sex?

"Yeah, and I could see your leering from a mile away. Don't get your hopes up," Bren replied.

"That's harsh from you," Kris laughed. "I thought you were all smiles and positivity."

"Not when I'm trying to assemble this piece of shit."

Bren knew saying that in Damon's hearing range would have been unwise. But the instructor was concentrated on another group some twenty meters away.

Until his head suddenly turned and he walked closer. "That's not the correct designation, Lieutenant," he snapped.

Bren cursed inwardly. Of course, in here the instructors could listen to all of their Link throat microphones as necessary. No hiding.

Finally all of the suit parts were connected and upright for climbing back in. Bren was already near exhaustion, and let his mind drift.

Iron Savior was another of his favorites, similar to Gamma Ray. Their songs were built on the concept of a human mind being trapped forever inside a huge spaceship. Sort of like a more extreme version of the Turrican suit. Actually that was an unsettling concept, but Bren liked the singer's voice, very rough and powerful, invoking the feeling of endless battles in space.

* * *

After all the exhaustion and noise, the spartan, now dimly-lit dormitory room felt like paradise. Outside the window, the Starport sky was in night mode already. Bren ached all over and took a long shower. Then he just collapsed on his bed, but he knew sleep would not come easily, as his mind was still circling in overdrive.

At the end of the day they finally had received permission to power up the suits, and practice moving. Tomorrow they would resume from where they left off. By now Bren thought he was going to do OK. Not the best, not the worst. It was not the training itself that worried him now. But what lay out there waiting, and what would rest on his shoulders if he passed the program.

As a Turrican operator, he would potentially be in the last line of defense against the insect-spaceship-robots, or whatever they were. Though mankind had not managed to find another planet quite as habitable as the beyond-salvage Earth – as most they had colonized were hellholes of various degree that required protective suits to be worn at all times – their existence had been well-off so far in retrospect.

Now it was possible it would all come to a crashing fiery halt. UPFF better start alerting people, at least in some controlled manner, Bren thought.

Otherwise it could come as a deadly surprise when the machines would ramp up hostilities, and then the mass panic they had tried to prevent would erupt anyway. Since the attacks had already targeted living people, not just autonomous mining ships, rumors had to be flying already.

* * *

Captain Rayna Becker felt a creeping sense of … something, as she sat at her terminal in the Intelligence office which she shared with four others. She had been sifting through the probe logs and footage and human-made reports, which had already been preprocessed and filtered by computers.

It was possibly anxiety, or the feeling that she wasn't doing exactly the right things, or doing them efficiently enough. Somehow the game had changed, and she didn't feel like she was on top of it any more.

She remembered earlier days in her career, optimizing distributed intelligence report collection systems, and the pleasure when they worked just right, while using just the necessary computing resources.

This was a quieter day. Today there had been nothing yet to act on, besides making sure the probes and droids were covering their sectors with maximum efficiency.

Though the official word was still silence and denial, Rayna could see that the rumors had already started pervading in the outer UPFF sectors. There was a steady stream of false positive sightings already. Many thought they had seen these insect-craft machines, while the explanation was something perfectly man-made.

She got up and out to the corridor, toward the coffee vending machine. Too many cups already consumed today.

For a moment Rayna laughed to herself as she was sure she did not look as sharp as an Intelligence officer was supposed to, but she thought, screw that. If there was a war coming, and particularly a war against machines, it would not be won with sharp looks, but by knowing the enemy, and knowing yourself, and striking decisively and fearlessly until the enemy was no more.

Some wisdoms had prevailed thousands of years. Rayna had a copy of the Art of War on her desk which she had just printed out by herself. Use of paper would be frowned upon and carefully tracked, and by now it would mostly be available only on the black market, but she had possessed a stockpile from earlier less strict days, and that had certainly been a worthwhile use of the limited supply.

She reached the lobby. There was a dispenser unit at each desk too, and the lobby's vending machine connected just to the same universal food / drink synthesizer system and produced exactly the same result, but like her printed book, the Intelligence officers had the machine just for the sake of tradition, and to get some exercise each day.

Kurt Petrov, another intelligence analyst of the dark and lanky variety, was at the machine already. Right now Rayna would have preferred no extra encounters, but he was tolerable enough, with his sometimes cynical and sometimes humorous attitude.

"The shit reports are picking up. You've surely noticed. Like, military shitposting. It should be forbidden," Kurt said.

"People are concerned. Then they over-imagine things. Nothing malicious, at least in most of it."

"Yeah. To get rid of it completely, would just have to replace people. I know, bad joke."

Rayna chuckled just a bit to herself. For an officer spending possibly more time on a terminal than was healthy, it was a line of thinking that was not entirely unfamiliar, at least on worse days. A machine would not make a mistake…

Or maybe it would. Trick it into making a mistake.

If Rayna thought seriously, humans were still supremely adaptable. Though in a purely mechanical sense a machine could think faster than a human ever could. So if it was adapting its thinking itself in the right way, and not making mistakes in that process, eventually it could be an accelerated, improved version of human consciousness, that no biological brains could hope to match.

That was the concept of singularity. Somehow, though technology had otherwise advanced well beyond the Earth era, human-designed AIs had not quite reached that level, that one could build an accurate knowledge model of the whole world and direct its thinking and learning on their own. Of course, in more limited problems they would excel.

Well, if humans had not built machines capable of that yet, maybe someone else had? Rayna felt a little cold thinking that, and was glad the coffee was almost intolerably warm.

Kurt left the lobby without saying more, and it was also time for Rayna to return to her office and the queue of reports.

* * *

Four days into the program, and they were finally ready to start practicing use of the Turrican suit's offensive systems.

Moving around at a greatly accelerated speed while being shielded from physical harm, for example if falling a great distance (tested in practice by everyone on the course) was already exhilarating in its own way. Less exhilarating, but of course just as necessary, had been to drill over the excessive maintenance and diagnosis information that both the suit and its powering-up cradle would produce.

Kris had managed to get into the suit's developer debug mode, which produced machine code scrolling down the visor's display. This reminded Bren of some old movie whose name he had forgotten. But it was more than a thousand years old.

They both had been amused by the discovery. Damon, less so. Kris had been chewed out quite severely, as doing too much with the developer mode could have caused permanent damage, which would have been deducted from his pay.

But now, at last, it was time to get serious, as the trainees swarmed onto the firing range.

The basic weapons systems of the suit were the following:

A rapid-fire multiple blaster that could be configured for spread shots up to five simultaneous.

A plasma cannon, whose spherical projectiles could bounce from most surfaces.

A laser beam, which again could be configured for size, the larger form igniting the air around it and forming an almost grotesque crescent shaped shot.

The powerline, a high laser wall fired simultaneously both from the back and the front, causing tremendous damage to multiple enemies at once.

The flamethrower, which actually was another form of laser, but its continuous beam could be rotated 360 degrees.

The wheel; the suit (with the operator inside) would curl into a nearly indestructible metal ball that would spin rapidly and travel forward. In this mode, mines that exploded in a few seconds could be laid on the ground.

The superweapon, which could be activated in case the operator was completely overwhelmed. It would utilize the laser and wheel modes all at once, also giving the wheel a limited and barely controllable flight capability. Friendly fire was a concern, so using it would be prohibited when operating in a team or near targets that could not allowed to be destroyed indiscriminately. This had been a last-minute addition from Manfred' engineering team before going into production, and later models would possibly omit it altogether.

The projectile weapon systems all fired from a sturdy rifle-like gun which was attached with a power cable to the suit, and would be held in a holding rack on the suit's back when not in use.

Earlier iterations of the suit had also fired a heavy spherical round from the holes in the suit's shoulders, but that was not included in the version Bren was wearing now.

"We will not take chances with safety here," Damon spoke, now in a powered-up suit as well. The helmet distorted the voice and made it just a touch inhuman.

"These weapons have enough power to cut through most materials known to man! Each of you will only fire forward in your assigned firing lane, and only when you are cleared to do so! We have safety switches to cut power to your suits and weapons, and in the worst case we do not hesitate to use our weapons to ensure the safety of the class. Do not let it come to that! That would also be an automatic expulsion from the program!"

In case you're still breathing, Bren thought, as he settled into firing position at his booth.

"We will start with the Multiple in lowest power setting! Single shots only! Do not think you'll be going to hit anything in full automatic at first! In the outer colonies they don't have enough energy even for proper lighting, so imagine how pissed off they'd be at some hotheads wasting precious kilojoules here in the comfort of this academy, spraying energy projectiles into thin air!"

During the lectures, they had watched demonstration videos where advanced Turrican operators were leaping around while firing full auto at moving targets, and hitting with almost perfect accuracy, but of course one had to start with the basics.

The instructor pressed a button on his remote, and a standard circular target whirred into view at the halfway of the lane.

"Three shots at the target! Aim down your sights properly! Commence - fire!"

Bren had to pause for a moment to make sure the weapon was in fact in the proper mode. Then he understood it had been made easy for him; the other systems were still locked out. There also was not enough power to even switch to the heaviest modes; for that the suit needed to be charged further.

He peered down the integrated scope, which adjusted automatically thanks to the suit's on-board computer. This was something else compared to the primitive projectile or energy rifles Bren had fired in the infantry, which felt like ages ago already.

From the lanes next to him he already heard the distorted rattle of the blaster shots, but Bren wanted to take his time now, to do it properly.

Finally, he was sure the aim was dead center, and squeezed the trigger. The yellow-red muzzle flash filled his field of view for a moment; the kickback was minimal.

Bren thought that the Turrican suits would make war almost too easy. He confirmed a hole almost in the center of the target.

"Lieutenant McGuire. Remember that in war, the enemies will not wait," Damon barked from behind.

"Noted, sir!"

From the justified but still unwelcome intrusion, Bren worked himself into a controlled rage, and fired the remaining shots faster. They too, were satisfyingly close –

Suddenly he saw a beam lance through the firing lane divider walls, just a meter in front of him.

"Cease fire, god damn it!" Damon's voice boomed.

Still in a degree of shock, Bren could hear the distinct sound of the unfortunate (or crazy) classmate's suit powering down by remote control. The beam could have cut into Bren's suit, in which case he would have received a little too realistic demonstration of the suit's defense capabilities. Or even got himself injured, and out of the program in the worst case.

"Sergeant Major Siebold, was that intentional? Or an accident? Either way, you will contemplate your lack of observing weapon safety while you give me twenty!"

In this case, twenty would mean the times getting in and out of the suit in non-powered state. The Sergeant would certainly learn to treat the Turrican weapon systems with more care, that was if he would not be kicked out.

* * *

Sometimes first impressions were deceiving. Sergeant Major Vadim Siebold did not have loose screws, he had just slipped in the firing booth, causing the weapon to go into flamethrower mode, and his finger jam down on the trigger.

Vadim was still breathing fast, but his face had a smile of mischief already, as he sat on a bench next to Bren. He was not a model soldier either in the looks department, with brown hair almost to shoulder-level and a heavy stubble.

"Way to start. But still in, still kicking," Vadim said.

"Got my adrenaline going," Bren replied.

For a moment he thought of the paranoid possibility of this incident having been planned by the instructors. But no, it would have been an irresponsible risk. In retrospect it was better to have it happened than not, since it reminded Bren of how in real war anything could happen, at any moment. And Vadim seemed quite like an OK guy. Maybe they would now have a band of three toughing it out through the training – him, Bren and Kris.

Later, once they would get into the proper exercises and scenarios, there would be a ranking list, with the best trainees continuing in the program. The instructors or even the Colonel had not been exactly clear on how many were going to continue. Bren did not like that, to be honest.

Was the UPFF unsure of how many new Turricans it needed? Was it even sure of the true scope of the machine threat?

Bren had trusted the military for so many years of his life, and of course he had seen various degrees of incompetence in action, on all levels of the hierarchy. But so far it had all been just – Bren did not even know. Just games? Practice exercises or low-level peace-keeping without a true enemy?

Now, when there was a real threat, any indecision or incompetence would burn much worse, and to Bren it would matter little who would get the best score. The only thing that mattered was that they would have to be ready enough to fight the machines, and hopefully those above him would be up to their task, so that lives would not be unnecessarily wasted.

Bren was sure Vadim was not thinking in such complicated or negative terms, at least right now. He was just glad to have survived his twenty, and to be back in the game.

"Break's over!" Damon shouted.

Back to mastering the weapon modes. It was best to not worry of things outside your control, Bren reminded himself. Just make sure you are as prepared as possible.

* * *

After five hours of firing the Turrican weapons systems, with just a lunch break in between, Bren again felt creeping exhaustion. Yet the day was not even over, there was still the wheel mode introduction remaining. The weapon exercises would continue tomorrow, with higher powered modes yet to be explored. As well as burst and full auto firing.

Thankfully it would be the weekend then, with two full days off.

Bren and Kris walked the Academy sublevel corridor in their suits toward the already familiar exercise and obstacle course section, with Vadim tagging behind.

"So, what do you like best so far?" Kris asked.

For the most part Kris had possessed no trouble in using any of the weapons. Bren could not say exactly the same, though he was still doing OK too.

Bren thought for a moment.

"All have their uses. I thought at first that the suit makes it too easy. That it's just too easy to hit anything. But then, we have to assume the enemy is just as powered-up, and nothing we use is too excessive. But if you had a gun to my head … the powerline."

"Right."

The powerline had so high destructive capacity, each of the trainees had gone into a reinforced steel bunker one by one to test its use. One shot only, against four harmless spherical practice droids. There practically had been no way to miss. After the shot, the whole bunker smelled of ozone and fried electronics. Bren had felt almost bad for the mangled and blackened spheres.

"Hmm. I'd still prefer the flamethrower, though I nearly booted myself out with it. If I can't blow shit up in a controlled manner, the next best thing would be to roast something ... like some mechanical spiders. Or any other small stupid enemies that come at you in a pack," Vadim said.

* * *

The first time his suit transformed into wheel mode, and he moved forward just a few meters, Bren was ready to throw up. Seriously, who had come up with this? It was not natural for a human to curl into a ball and roll forward!

Yet Bren understood the problem was in his mind, as the suit itself had an acceleration-countering mechanism that worked by rotating the operator in the opposite direction if the G-forces would exceed a threshold. Furthermore, the operator did not actually spin around the whole time; only the outer surface of the "wheel" did.

He knew he just had to force himself to master this method of transportation too, to overcome the urge to vomit and accept what was happening. Otherwise he would be unfit as a Turrican operator.

Gradually, it started to become easier, and at last Bren trusted himself to not vomit even while making sharp turns. Cameras on the outside surface would give a nearly stabilized image feed of the forward direction, though there were occasional glitches and jittering.

Bumping into the other trainees was also a potential source of humor.

"Keep your dirty wheel off me!" a high-pitched voice shouted over the suit's communications system. It was yet another collision on the wheel obstacle course.

The voice turned out to belong to a short blue-haired Second Lieutenant, Juko Ishikawa. On her the Turrican suit would adjust to the near-smallest size, and therefore she would navigate turns faster as a wheel, or even fit into openings the larger Turricans could not get into.

She also had enough sense of humor to fit into their existing band of three. So now it seemed it was going to be a band of four.

That was large enough to start worrying of whether they would have to compete against each other at some point. In group exercises they would be unlikely to end up in the same team. Instead, the most probable scenario was that they all would get a team to command. It would possibly suck, but what still mattered most was that the best Turricans would make it, Bren mused.

And yet was not even time for the ranking; the first phase of the training was still ongoing. And just now, the weekend!


	3. World 1-2

**World 1-2**

Bren rarely ventured far from the dormitory buildings and the Academy into the multilevel mazes of Starport, the huge space station that had been his most permanent home since enrolling in the UPFF.

There was not much pressing need, since the best joint he knew, Space Slug, was not far away either. It was where most of the soldiers hung out on days off.

Pulsing neon lights and sound waves going from the subsonic to abrasively high pierced the darkness of the bar. Bren was on his second beer now; a buzz was beginning to form, enhanced by a mostly empty stomach.

He, Kris, Vadim and Juko all sat at a table in the corner of the second floor, below a large imaginary neon slug that hung on the wall, changing colors at a slow hypnotizing pace.

Despite the familiar environment and the pleasant influence of the alcohol, and the feeling of accomplishment from having survived the first week of training, Bren could not help a degree of unease following him everywhere, Knowing that there were intelligent, violent machines out there, out for blood, tended to change one's perspective of the world.

Most of the patrons here were not part of the Turrican program, which meant they could not discuss that issue freely. It probably was not a good idea, even: it was better to think of something else entirely.

Vadim opened up from behind a glass of synthetic whiskey.

"So, Kris, what kind of shit you have seen? I know Bren had his Katakis missions against those pirate shits, and I've been practically everywhere, doing demolitions no-one else was crazy enough to do, and Juko –"

"I'm kind of the same. I fix shit no-one else wants or can fix. Like doing live maintenance on a high-voltage arachnid maintenance robot while it's actively trying to stick all of its legs into you at the same time. But yeah. It's really Kris's turn," Juko said in a flurry of words.

Kris meditated for a while, then began to speak.

"I was on the Alterra colony, the research stations. Mostly boring guard duty. Until ... the bio-engineered organisms broke out. After that it became a bug hunt. A long bug hunt through space. Some of them were semi-sentient and actually commandeered ships on their own, anything they could get their slimy hands onto. It wasn't exactly fun. But got promoted during that. Seeing your squad-mate get eaten from the inside by a giant bug, or what the hell it was … The memory of that tends to linger. After that, was an instructor here at the Academy for a while. Until the Turrican program came up."

This was more than Bren could have expected, and his respect for Kris just went up a few notches. Of them all, he had possibly seen the worst kind of action. Bren had originally thought Kris was just someone who tried to live up to some imaginary soldier ideal.

"But now, no more bug stories. Let's just drink."

Bren concentrated on his beer for a moment. Until the ambient music faded to silence, and an actual song started playing. There was a proper drum beat this time.

It also had to be ancient, from the Earth era. Possibly a thousand years old too, like Gamma Ray. The sound was still heavily processed; Bren could not tell if it was a guitar or a synthesizer playing.

Then the vocals started, and Bren understood it was a song about wings. Flying.

"Hey. I know this one. Real old school. Tom Cruise," Vadim said, his eyes gleaming. The name did not say much to Bren. Was that the singer's name, or what?

"That's the formula. First you train. Then you face the faceless MIG pilots," Vadim went on.

It felt suddenly eerily reminiscent of their situation. But Bren understood Vadim had to be talking of a work of fiction. A movie, most likely. Bren rarely watched those. After the Earth era, the production quality had fallen. Watching the old films from Earth times tended to be depressing, and the new ones… who wanted to watch stories about planets and shuttles and the blackness of space, when reality was like that too?

Better to just concentrate on the reality at hand.

"Or you train and fight your way up. Until you're ready to face the three or more forms of the ultimate evil," Juko said in turn.

Bren understood that, but vaguely. A more epic form of fiction – possibly one typically seen in video games? Bren was not an expert on those, though he had tried a few – through the Link.

But since that pattern, of training and fighting evil kept reappearing with variations, maybe there was some worth to it. Even Gamma Ray's lyrics were at times similar.

"Well, it's good that in reality things don't usually change forms. And most of the time they respond well to kinetic or energy rounds," Kris said.

"Yeah. It's always exaggerated. But reality is just boring sometimes," Juko replied. "And the cute stuff is usually better in non-reality too."

Bren was finished with his beer, and ordered another through the Link. The process was expedient but a little unglamorous; the dispenser slot at the table opened, and credits would be deducted from his account. He could have gone for the bartender too, but for just a beer, this would do.

Suddenly he received a brief video message.

Luna's shuttle would be docking at the Starport early tomorrow. She had been off on a work assignment for a long time, and Bren knew he shouldn't drink excessively tonight.

Thinking of her, too, now led Bren to think how potentially everything had changed. She was a civilian, and therefore outside of the circle of people who could be told of the looming machine threat. And the Link was ever-present; now the fact that it would possibly be transmitting all the time suddenly did not feel that good or righteous any more.

Bren could still finish this beer, though.

"Hey. I saw how your face changed. You're thinking of cute stuff," Juko teased.

"And in reality," Vadim added.

Fuck you already, Bren thought.

* * *

Luna Jensen was a virtual reality designer, one of the top names in the field. For the past two months she had been on an off-world assignment, visiting the client's processing facilities and recording material so that the VR training simulation of the facilities would be top-notch. Luna's time was not cheap, so this had to be an extreme client and an extreme assignment. Usually VR environments were quickly put together from existing props; one thousand years had been a long time to model everything that had ever existed, and thankfully most of the libraries had not been lost.

It was Saturday now; still one more day before the training would resume. Bren was visiting Luna at her apartment, which was much more spacious compared to his primitive dormitory quarters. Still, something was quite the same as when Bren had been relaxing before the kickoff. They too had a VR scene going on. But this was a green forest, one which Luna had designed.

There were still pieces missing, like the sense of touch. Or smell. But the audiovisual information was extremely convincing. Of course, like the movies, this could be depressive too if you thought of it too much, as it depicted a now-lost Earth environment.

The floor mat was soft fur, which now approximated the forest undergrowth to the best of its ability.

"So, you've started the Tin Man training. Is it what you expected?" Luna asked, lying on the floor next to Bren. When she had left for the assignment, she had dyed her almost waist-length hair to dark red to be more conservative. Now it was back to the usual green.

"Yeah. Everything I expected, down to the stupid drills and instructors barking at you. But seriously, it feels good to be part of what's taking the UPFF to the next level," Bren said.

He could talk in vague terms; in fact UPFF personnel were encouraged to do so. Just nothing of the insect-machines. "And how was your assignment?"

"The usual. I don't think you want to hear of total maximum vertex or object counts, or how the client wants to run on legacy Link versions –"

"Maybe I would, but do you want to hear of the Turrican weapons systems? The shortened and non-classified version."

Luna laughed shortly and bumped Bren's shoulder. Then her expression changed more serious for a second.

"Maybe another time. But on the shuttle ride, I had this weird dream."

Bren prepared himself mentally. Dream analysis was something they did often; it made sense that as a VR designer, Luna would have a highly developed imagination, which expanded to her dreams as well. Though in turn Bren didn't – at least so far – tell Luna of his Gamma Ray lyric interpretations. Maybe it was the nagging sense that it would be considered too weird. Or it was something Bren wanted to keep to himself only.

"There was this planet, which was completely devoid of everything. Except that the villain had erected this sarcophagus in the middle of emptiness. Inside – this makes no sense – was this galactic princess or someone, and the hero was flying in there and trying to find her from the empty expanse before time would run out."

It almost sounded like something that would have been just at home last night at the Space Slug. With the MIG pilots and multiple forms of the ultimate evil.

"Sounds like space opera material," Bren replied, not wanting to go too deep yet.

"Yeah. And I of course had to think – this is stupid too – of myself being in there. Though I don't think I'm a galactic princess."

"If the situation was that, I'd blast off in a Katakis with no hesitation."

"Don't think you'd get permission just for one person."

For a civilian, Luna had an impressive understanding of the UPFF's priorities. It was a likely reality.

"Then I would steal one."

"Aren't you forgetting the Link? That doesn't sound good on record. Everything you do will be analyzed -"

Bren was suddenly spooked. That was a Gamma Ray lyric. But of course, they had listened to the song together. Even if Bren had not went on a lengthy monologue on the song's meaning.

"Actually, the UPFF would suspect more an officer who wasn't prepared to do exactly that."

Luna smiled. "Well then, what would you do once you found me?"

She probably meant, what if Bren found her in time. That is, not as a corpse. It did not take too much imagination. Bren turned and pulled Luna in his arms and kissed her for long. It was probably why she had wanted to tell of the dream at all.

In moments like this Bren sometimes thought Luna felt somehow ethereal, like she could vanish into thin air the next moment. This had to be some wiring failure in his brains. Because of course that was not going to happen.

It had been a bit of the same when Bren had first seen her, in a VR equipment store at the Starport five months ago, when Bren had been shopping for cheat but serviceable location tracking sensors for his room, to augment the Link's capabilities. And Luna had looked so out of place, like a fairy or something, that Bren had felt compelled to go to talk to her. She had been negotiating with the store chain's heads, for the store to get permission to use her material for demo purposes. But she was rather modest about it; only later Bren understood the extent of her skill.

Back in the present, Luna's expression changed to somewhat puzzled.

"But this dream – I mean, why would I dream something like that? Isn't it something that should be, in this year ... I'm searching for the right word. Discredited?"

"Well, you dreamed it anyway. So I don't think it can be discredited then. Though I wouldn't mind at all if it was the other way around," Bren said.

Luna looked a bit uneasy from that. Bren knew it was somewhat unfair to say, but he still had wanted to say it.

"But I'm just a VR designer. I can't do the stuff that you can. All the shooting and flying."

This was possibly a dead end for this line of discussion. Though Bren did not want Luna to feel like there was anything she could not do. Her quick mind would make her a fine Katakis pilot. And the military of course needed VR designers too. But it was possibly not a good time to do a recruiting speech for the UPFF.

"Can you tell, what are you training for? Like for real?" Luna asked then.

"Unfortunately no. That's UPFF operational secrets."

Bren flashed back to the insect-spacecraft footage again. As far as he understood, they were remorseless, emotionless villlains, and anything could be expected of them. Like encasing humans inside sarcophagi, if that was their thing. And he could tell precisely nothing, under the pain of harsh penalties. Court martial, dishonorary discharge and several years in the slammer, possibly with some compulsory mental conditioning.

"Hey... Turn around."

Bren wasn't sure at all what Luna was aiming at, but he complied almost subconsciously, lying on his stomach on the mat now. He could sense Luna closing in and lifting his shirt. She started to draw something on his back with her forefinger.

Letters.

The first one was two strokes, one vertical and one horizontal. L.

Followed by I… N… K…

A pause.

S… C… R… A...

Link scrambler. A device that would temporarily disrupt the transmission. If Luna had one, it meant she had visited the black market. That was not exactly safe, and certainly not legal.

Though, there were even easier ways. The Link did not actually function as a camera at all, except when explicitly requested by the user, so if they wanted to pass secrets, all they needed was to stay quiet.

Still, this was not where Bren wanted to go. He would not compromise his standing in the UPFF. No matter if his predicament would eat him inside. Instead, like he had thought before, he would just become the best Turrican he could be, to protect Luna and everyone else.

He shook his head without saying a word.

Luna seemingly tensed and withdrew the finger. Bren turned around to face her, and now her expression was neutral.

"It was just an idea," she said.

"Yeah. You don't have to worry. We're just staying prepared," Bren replied, again almost subconsciously. But he was bitter at his own words. Don't worry even if there's potentially a volatile horde of insect machine craft coming to eradicate every human in existence.

Luna likely noticed something. Something of Bren's tension and bitterness had to filter also to the outside. He was not that good at hiding his emotions.

"Hey. Maybe you can't tell everything. I can't either. It's OK. We still have one and half day. Let's make good use of it."

This Bren could not disagree with. But the way Luna said it, was somehow beautiful and melancholy and Bren felt suddenly lost. Like all he wanted to do was to just hold on to her, the Turrican program completely forgotten just at that moment.

* * *

With nothing especial lined up for the weekend now, Rayna returned to her office. It felt delightfully empty now, with the others gone. It was now that she could concentrate properly, or even relax.

Though relaxation could not really happen now, with the threat ongoing. Rayna had the feeling that she was just barely missing some piece of information, that just sending more probes into space would not help to uncover. One needed to know the enemy, or risk a disastrous result in battle.

She thought back to the major incidents UPFF had been needed in. Mostly, it had been law enforcement operations. But surely, the lowly space pirates could not be connected to this in any way. They were practically just attacking the easiest, most vulnerable targets, and then selling the cargo to just as gullible buyers, like the secessionist colonies, often with vastly inflated prices.

That did not leave much. Of course Earth's late history had been full of extreme conflict, and AI's had played a major role, though still always under the control of human generals, but it was still so long ago, that it could not be tied to this either. It would be extremely unlikely that some of the AI's would have gone rogue and escaped, and started building their own empire of insect-shape killer ships on the far side of the traveled space.

Just to refresh her mind, as she could not remember everything, Rayna ran a search on her terminal on the major UPFF operations.

From the number of casualties, one popped up immediately. How could she have forgotten? It was almost a classic horror story.

The Alterra colony.

But still, it seemed a clear-cut case. Negligence from the researchers had allowed security to be compromised in the five different environments, and the engineered worker lifeforms had broken out of containment.

The operations to re-contain them had been excessive, spanning several regions of space, costing many lives and so much resources that Rayna felt profound disgust. All because of elementary negligence! And possibly some of the creatures were still out there.

After the incident, research into bio-engineered semi-sentient creatures had been outlawed. The criteria afterward was simple: only engineering that would not result in a whole functioning, living organism would be permitted. Like growing artificial replacement organs.

Rayna made more searches, to refresh her mind thoroughly on the case by reading the pertinent documents. Everything about the incident seemed clear-cut, and she assumed she would be finished quickly. It would be a dead-end, but then she could put it to rest.

She started with the official investigation report into the security breach. And suddenly it was not so clear-cut.

A degree of covering up had been going on.

Several of the interviews with the researchers and the guards had gone missing. The mental toll had been heavy, with many of the personnel institutionalized, some even permanently, and Rayna felt just a bit bad about her reaction of disgust. She could have made a similar mistake. Did it justify having your life ruined forever? Well, the deciding factor probably was if you yourself could live with the results of your actions, or inaction.

Half an hour passed, with Rayna submerging intensely in the remaining documents.

From reading between the lines, with limited information and some of the stories conflicting, the impression she got was that the initial breach was unexplained. The researchers thought they had breached protocol, forgotten a master security lock open, which had allowed one of the bio-creatures to crawl in and hit a series of unlock switches for all of the five environments. And the security personnel were quick to blame the negligent scientists.

But it rather seemed that the master lock had opened by itself. So in actuality, no-one at the site should have blamed themselves. The designers were more to blame, but at some point designing a more secure system would make it just too cumbersome to use. Like entering the cockpit of a Katakis fighter, it could be made to require several keys or codes, or two- or three-factor authentication using external devices.

But that would just make it harder for the pilot who actually needed to be off flying in a hurry. And an attacker with enough patience could still bypass it.

Rayna went through the personnel list.

One jumped at her, one she could interview rather easily right here at the Academy: Lieutenant Kris Escher had been stationed on Alterra, had participated in the containment operations, and was now training in the Turrican program.

* * *

Back in his cramped room, with the new week about to begin in just seven hours, Bren thought.

It was true Luna could help him forget, to relax. The past two days were easily the best for a long time Bren could think of, and he would not have exchanged them for anything. But still he thought – and it was something he did not want to say to her face – that he should not be escaping or forgetting anything, but just facing any and all problems head on.

With Luna, there would always be the division to soldier and civilian. He would always be omitting some information, and she would be waiting for him to return from some assignment, possibly distant, possibly even fatal. She was possibly the sweetest person Bren knew, but unless either she was to join the UPFF, or Bren would retire, that division was not going to go away.

Bren thought of their band of four too. They in contrast could share everything, at least when it came to military matters. Of course, getting overly attached to any of them would be unwise, since they all were not necessarily going to make it through the training. And even if they did, the vast UPFF machinery could send each of them into different corners of the galaxy.

Fuck. Being a soldier was not easy from any angle. Still Bren could not at least immediately think of anything else he could be.

Bren knew he had to try to fall asleep, and went to his spartan bed. Seven hours would already be cutting it close, and six would certainly be too little to be in the near-peak mental and physical condition necessary for the training.

Finally blackness claimed him. But gradually, the dream became unpleasant. First he was training endlessly at the academy, trying to get the suit and its weapons assembled, until the scene began to change.

He was alone in the middle of the void of space, stars to every direction. But he was not in a Katakis fighter or other space ship. Rather, trapped inside a Turrican suit. His mission was to traverse the space forever, becoming one with the suit and more of a machine, until his brain would be the only biological thing left. Or who knows, even it could be replaced with a computer in the end. Though his mission was to protect all humanity, he grew distant from them, knowing he would never have human-like feelings again, or be close to someone like he was to Luna. He had become the Iron Savior.

Bren woke up with a lurch, his heart thudding very forcefully after missing a beat. It was as if his brain was punishing him now for the past two days. He knew he would not fall asleep again for some time; his mind was still in overdrive, though he understood the disturbing nightmare was nothing like his actual reality. He considered ordering sleep medication from the dispenser, that would guarantee a deep dreamless slumber.

But there was only four fours left until the morning now. It would leave him in a stupor, which would not be good at all.

* * *

The second week started in a thankfully easy manner that did not require peak condition immediately. More lectures, on the Turrican suit's defensive systems and battle tactics. Then, back to the range.

Though he was not well rested, Bren could take the nightmare almost as sick humor now. One of the tenets of the UPFF was for soldiers to retain their humanity as much as possible. Again, it would translate to better performance, if nothing else.

Manfred was at the podium again. Bren understood that as the Turrican project head, he would be allowed to ramble in a manner that would be off-limits to the other officers.

"Remember, when we're in the Turrican suits, we're not just infantry, but much more. The tactics available to us are much wider, and we can attack pre-emptively, even temporarily forgoing our own safety. The suit shield system is guaranteed to protect for three seconds from any level of firepower. Remember that and use it to your advantage! Of course, this doesn't mean a Turrican has the permission to die. Ever!"

Bren thought about it. Three seconds was certainly enough to pop up from cover and surprise an enemy that thought you would not dare to attack, then get back to safety before you ran out.

"We have been trying to get self-regeneration in, but alas, it has not been successful yet. Therefore the shield must still be refreshed with power-up cells. What we have been successful in, is reducing their size to tolerable."

Manfred held a roughly fist-sized yellow box in his hand, with a red P letter on it. Judging from his hand motion it was light, and there was no trouble carrying several of them.

Then Bren became aware of the classroom door being opened. A guard Sergeant stepped in.

"Lieutenant Kris Escher, you are being requested for an interview by the Intelligence division. This takes priority over the training."

Kris turned, looking a bit quizzical.

"Hmm. Guess I can't say no to that. Can you brief me on what I miss?" he said to Bren as he stood up.

To tell the truth, Bren was a little bit envious. It was as if Kris was being elevated to a more important status than the rest. It could possibly be related to Kris's earlier service, but they would not interrupt like this if it was not urgent. Related to the machines, then? But how?

Escorted by the guard, Kris left the classroom, and Manfred continued.

"The power-up takes effect almost instantly, so one could get creative. For example pumping an enemy full of sustained fire, while your teammate keeps you alive by feeding your suit with fresh cells! That is not an officially sanctioned method, and we won't train for that, but as a last resort, it could mean the difference between success and failure."

* * *

Rayna had been preparing for the interview for the best of her ability, going over Kris's service record so that she would not be wasting time with obvious questions. The important part was of course the Alterra incident.

The interview room was a small office with just a table and a few chairs. Rayna had her tablet for taking notes. Of course just using the Link would have worked too, typing on the virtual keyboard or dictating the words, but many of the Intelligence officers preferred slightly old-school methods. Almost as if they distrusted the Link.

She took a deep breath as the door opened and Kris was ushered in. He looked just like what Rayna expected an officer with former security duty experience to look like. Not taking the freedoms that were available to all UPFF personnel.

Rayna also could not deny that he made a confident, even handsome impression, his posture upright but not rigid. But that was not the subject of this session. Alterra would be.

"Please sit down, Lieutenant Escher."

Similar to holding the briefing on the machine sightings, interviewing people did not come naturally to Rayna. She would just concentrate on the matter at hand, at which point she would often speak rapidly, forgetting the other person was not necessarily following, and in doing that she might even come off as somewhat unfriendly. Though she did not mind much. This was Intelligence, not PR.

Kris took a seat opposite her.

"I have on record that you were of course thoroughly debriefed after the Alterra incident, and the ensuing… operations. But in light of the recent developments a repeat interview is in order, to make sure we're not missing anything. Please understand that you're in no capacity being accused of anything."

"Is this about the machines?" Kris asked.

Rayna had to pause for a moment. It was so far only checking for completeness. It did not hurt to be honest with him.

"We are checking every line of investigation. Potentially, but don't get too excited. And you are not to discuss this interview with your classmates."

"Understood. I will help in any manner I can. Though you'll understand I don't have the freshest memories of that time."

Rayna had read the part of Kris's confidential service file, which detailed the psychologist appointments, as well as moderately heavy alcohol use following the operations. He had been on the brink, but then bounced back, apparently stronger than before.

"That is clear. I'm not expecting a photographic memory recall to many years ago, and of experiences that I understand were traumatic."

Rayna paused again. She did not want to imply Kris had been weak or oversensitive, as that might lead the rest of the interview down the drain. "They would of course have been traumatic for anyone," she added.

"Yes, you could say that."

"Let's go back to the time when the security locks opened. Do you recall anything out of the ordinary?"

There was a silence; Rayna understood Kris to be going somewhere far away in his mind, to a place that was potentially extremely unpleasant. At last, he spoke.

"A lot of shouting over the radio, once the bugs started pouring out. And gunfire. The researchers' single shots, small caliber, and us guards with the heavier weapons. And… Well, Alterra has these thunderstorms. It has to do with the terraforming after-effects. The sky goes black rather quickly, and you better not be on any of the metal walkways then. Before the shouting started, I remember the air felt electric. Just like in a thunderstorm. But the skies were clear then. It was strange, but I thought it was just some freak weather incident. That place was a mystery anyway. Is this relevant?"

Rayna felt her adrenaline rising.

This could well be something.

"Possibly yes. It could be related to the locks opening by sabotage, rather than by negligence."

"But sabotage by whom? Do you mean … Someone of us on the site? Or do you even think the machines were there already, coming to open the locks with some kind of electric pulse and break the bio-creatures out?"

Rayna was almost surprised to see that someone else would immediately take the thinking to the logical extreme too. She did not think it to be likely, but at this stage everything was worth considering.

"That would be extreme speculation. But this has already been helpful. We will double-check any electromagnetic measurements from that day, and see what further information we can uncover."

* * *

The rest of the interview wasn't as fruitful; the air going electric was the sole big revelation and potential lead. Yet Rayna wanted to be thorough. They went over Kris's improvised mop-up operation on that day, but it was mostly just a lot of gunfire and carnage. Finally the session was all over, and Kris made to stand up, looking more relaxed now.

"One more thing that I wanted to say. You don't look half bad for an Intelligence officer."

From someone who was a grunt at heart, no matter if he was an officer now, this was almost inevitable. Rayna could not decide exactly on what degree of unwelcome it landed on.

"Careful, Lieutenant. That amounts to playing with fire."

"The Turrican training is a lot about managing risk. I thought this risk to be worthwhile."

Rayna knew all of this would be archived by the Link, but unless she decided to press the matter, it was unlikely anyone would even go over this. Potentially just a computer would, setting flags here and there.

Rayna softened her tone a bit, though it still retained a blunt edge.

"And you don't look that bad either. Let's leave it at that. Dismissed."

Kris left the room finally. Rayna took a deep breath again and pondered that it had not been exactly professional either. But indeed, better to leave it at that.

* * *

The third week had started, and the Turrican program was finally going into the second phase, the simulator exercises. They would still keep using the real suits too, just to make sure they would not lose touch, as it was not quite the same.

This was also where the ranking list would kick in.

"At the end of the second phase, the lowest-scoring third will be eliminated from the program," Captain Schmidt explained.

The instructors had been swapped now. It made little difference. Achim was perhaps a bit less macho, though also demanding in his own more unassuming way. You certainly did not want to fuck up in front of him.

"We have the discretion to make exceptions, in cases of exceptional performance that the score doesn't account for. But do not count on it. Assume that if you end up on the bottom, you're out. There will be another elimination during the final phase," Achim went on.

The simulator classrooms were large, high-ceilinged rooms, with twenty-five stations – or simulator versions of the Turrican suits – in each suspended with heavy cables from above. One would climb inside mostly like into a real suit, and there would be limited range of motion: the operator could practically run and jump while hanging in the air. Transforming into the wheel mode would not produce any physical transformation however: your view would just slide or roll forward.

In the simulation, one would be free to use all the weapons in any of the power modes without incurring any real risk. Of course, there were rules: friendly fire would be a severe points deduction (thankfully, not a court martial), and if you died, you stayed dead until the end of the simulation round.

The scenarios would also have the liberty of throwing any number of enemies at you.

Like Bren had thought, due to their officer status each of the four of them would have a team to command. So their role would be more difficult and more scrutinized right from the start. Though conversely, a team leader who was doing well would earn bonus points from their team's performance.

Bren prepared to enter his simulator station.

The first exercise would be just a transportation and regrouping at a mission area, with no enemy contact expected, to get familiar with the team. Using the communications system would be just the same as inside a real Turrican suit.

"Hey, you want free advice?" Vadim asked, as he was about to enter his station right next to Bren.

"Sure."

"Under no circumstances, should you ask a soldier under your command to remove his helmet for inspection in the field!"

This was well outside Bren's imagination.

"Who would do such stupid shit? The Turrican helmet contains no field-serviceable parts."

"Right on."

* * *

The noise of the Denaris class dropship was frighteningly accurate. As well as tremendously loud, though the helmet did its best to filter and compress irrelevant or harmful audio signals. Bren certainly forgot this was not actual reality, as he looked at his team, everyone of them held in place by safety cages on the sides of the dropship's hold.

It was also some time since he had commanded a squad – there were five of them in addition to him, but it all would come back. Still, when he spoke, it was a bit of an out-of-the-body experience. Like it was someone else.

"Team! ETA to landing one minute. Contact not expected, but we're over pirate controlled territory, so make sure your weapon is ready! We'll RV with rest of the teams one and half clicks from the dropoff point!"

Bren's callsign was Squire, unimaginatively modified from his surname. The rest were Rexor, Nightfist, Katana, Viper and CountessB.

One minute passed in semi-tense waiting. Then the dropship landed with a slight lurch, the cages and the rear doors opening.

"Go!" Bren shouted, and they all exited into uninviting rocky terrain, weapons ready, with an alien blue-green fog all around them. It was a rather accurate simulation of an inhospitable outer world.

As soon as they exited, several environment warnings lit up on the helmet display – the atmosphere was mostly nitrogen and some methane. The temperature was tolerable at 281 K; the suit would have no problem keeping them comfortably warm. Or actually it would only be their own sweating in the real world – the simulation did not include temperature effects, except for killing your simulated self if the suit got breached in a lethal environment.

But yes, it was certainly not a place to attempt taking the helmet off.

Bren recalled one of Gamma Ray's more aggressive songs, which was about erasing an alien planet and all life on it as retaliation. It was not exactly what this training run would be about, yet considering the surroundings, it helped him get into the proper mindset.

Bren guided his team from cover to cover, as they advanced toward the rendezvous point. He was not going to be sloppy now; they were scanning the surroundings diligently, using the Turrican suit's enhanced vision modes, like thermal processing, and the on-board radar.

Everything was quiet. Almost too quiet, Bren thought. He alternated between being immersed in the simulated reality, and thinking of what was the point of this exercise? Did it have a hidden agenda?

Suddenly, he did not have to think any more, as phaser gunfire erupted from behind high rocks some fifty meters ahead.

"Take cover!" Bren shouted. He also now recognized a standard issue pirate radar jammer, erected behind the rocks.

"I'll take out the jammer!"

Bren took aim, already cursing in his mind. This was almost like walking into a trap. He had acted quickly, but should have recognized the jammer shape earlier. He wondered if the other teams had fared better.

Again, he was jerked out of his thoughts by a distinctive ripping noise lowering in pitch – that of his Turrican suit's shield power going down. He was being hit by enemy fire from the side.

Multiple bursts lit up the darkness as his team responded, taking out the pirate wearing what seemed to be a makeshift low-degree power armor.

"Thanks!"

Fuck. He had to stop thinking of the simulation, of how the others were doing, and just to think of this as proper war. That was the only way to make it.

He switched to the fully charged laser, and squeezed off a shot. The radar jammer exploded in a fireball and a shower flying metal shards. Almost immediately after, Bren's radar display came to life, showing that ahead of them was a valley with a heavy concentration of what most likely had to be pirate vehicles. The route to the RV was going to be full of blood and fire.

Bren allowed himself one last thought of the training strategy. Clearly, this was something to unnerve and throw them off guard.

But they were Turricans. Or going to be Turricans. They would handle this.

"Let's flank the rest of them!" Bren shouted, more force in his voice now.

His team opened up properly, the weapons switched to higher energy modes and using sustained fire. They advanced rapidly, circling to the positions of the rest of the armored pirates, and not before long, they all were history, some of the makeshift armor suits just exploding under heavy fire.

Silence fell, the nitrogen / methane air thick with smoke now in addition to the persistent fog.

Some of it clipped through the rocks in an unconvincing manner, revealing the limits of the illusion. Bren didn't allow himself to dwell on that, but checked the map on his helmet display.

The fastest route to the rendezvous, the one they were originally going to use, was right through the valley. He recalled the lectures on Turrican battle tactics. Strike with overwhelming force, one that the enemy wouldn't even know you'd possess.

"No change of plan. We're going right through them, into the valley. Just stay sharp."

From behind the helmets, Bren couldn't tell if the five were agreeing or shaking in disbelief. He could see the bio-signs of all of them on the side of the heads-up display, but they were all over the place and Bren couldn't interpret them in any fruitful manner.

But they did not protest vocally. That was enough. Moving low and still keeping to cover wherever possible, Bren's squad moved into the opening of the valley.

The opposition was not that formidable. For a squad of Turricans, that is. Bren counted ten small autonomous walker robots patrolling the valley, "periscope" style automatic turrets, and one heavy crescent-shaped black craft circling the sky. These were all stolen UPFF equipment, reprogrammed by the pirates.

In addition to the robots, there were the pirates themselves, six more of them in their homemade armor suits. By now Bren knew they would go down rather quick from concentrated fire. Or one for each of his squad to take down.

Of course, on the first sight of their squad, all of the robots would be on them. The black flyer was the most worrisome, as Bren knew it to be capable of dropping a barrage of bombs, which would eat into their shields fast, if they were caught in the blast radius.

Bren's squad was running late of the rendezvous. Still, getting into it late would be worth more than letting themselves become killed in simulated action. They were observing from the cover of roughly waist-height rocks.

But soon, they needed to stop observing and start attacking.

"Powerlines. One attacks and the rest stay in cover. Leapfrog formation. Understood?" Bren spoke.

The squad nodded.

Nightfist went first, jumping with the suit's maximum power high into the air, and landing right in the middle of a pack of walkers. The air rippled with white-blue light as the powerlines fired, and several of the walkers just disintegrated. The lines swept harmlessly past Bren and the rest, crouched low between the rocks.

The pirates woke up to what was happening now, and gunfire erupted.

While spraying on with the five-way multiple, Nightfist jumped for a second time, into cover on the left side of the valley. Bren was next in line; he too leaped high, launching the powerlines, aiming at the craft sweeping toward him and the rest. The pirates' full-auto fire whizzed past him, some of the energy rounds hitting him, and the shield began to deplete.

Just before the black craft disintegrated, it managed to drop two bombs, but thankfully Bren was already jumping into cover.

Rexor wasn't that lucky; he was caught in the explosions. But he should survive just two.

By now it was clear that the jump-powerline-back-in-cover leapfrog sequence was not going to work; the remaining enemies were all over the valley now, and would overrun their cover positions any second.

"No more powerlines!" Bren shouted into his comms. "Let's finish this the traditional way. Watch your shields!"

In the safety of cover, Bren extracted a power-up cell from one of the holder pockets and slammed it in. To watch the shield meter fill back up was satisfying, though it had been depleted only to halfway, so in essence he had wasted some of the cell. Still, better safe than dead, at least in the first fight.

Moving carefully from cover to cover, and using the weapons at maximum power level, it only took about one and half a minute for Bren's squad to clear out all of the valley. The last walker robot squealed pitifully just as it exploded, then it became silent.

"Well done, team!" Bren shouted. "Now, the RV!"

Bren kept scanning his radar as the six of them left the valley behind, leaping over the pirate corpses and mangled robots. No further enemy contact.

"We're running a bit late! Into wheel mode!"

There was no proper transformation, Bren's view just went low, as the ground zoomed past him rapidly. One minute more, and they were at the location.

Bren disembarked from the wheel mode, taking a quick look at the surroundings. He counted two full Turrican squads already there. Kris's and Juko's. Then, there were a few rather sorry-looking blackened Turricans, and not a full team. Vadim?

Then his view began to dissolve into black as the simulation ended.

* * *

The debriefing was on now. It was clear that each of the teams had encountered a similar pirate encampment. Bren's team was the second lowest scoring, and they all were watching the feed from Kris's team now, to learn.

Kris and his squad had handled the enemies with overwhelming confidence, just letting rip with continuous firepower, transforming into wheels almost immediately, launching powerlines and mines. That was the essence of how a Turrican squad should operate.

"Lieutenant McGuire, can you explain the difference in your own words?" Achim asked.

Bren spoke with some bitterness in his voice.

"We fought like regular infantry. Firing from cover, taking too much care. We could have been much more efficient."

"Correct. Still, none of you were killed."

Achim cast a quick glance at Vadim and his team.

They had relied a bit too much on explosives, resulting in friendly fire. As the surviving team leader, Vadim's ranking score was at least positive, but several of his men were in the negative due to the unintentional teamkilling.

Meanwhile Juko's team had utilized the wheel and wheel mines both effectively and with care, resulting in no friendly casualties. Furthermore, they had hacked into the walker robots to turn them back into UPFF-loyal, and they had proceeded to shred the pirates with rapid-fire energy blasters.

Now that Bren knew to always expect the unexpected, and to keep in mind how a Turrican needed to operate, he hoped the next assignment would go better. It had to. Katana and CountessB were low in the points and would likely not make the cutoff. Bren owed them better.


	4. World 1-3

**World 1-3**

The meeting with the Tech division had come up suddenly, and Rayna did not like it. Kurt seemed apprehensive too, as they walked down the corridor into the meeting room. Some unnecessary bullshit, that would eat into the time for proper investigations. Supposedly some top brass would be attending too.

The good news was that Colonel Ardon C. Striker would be there as well. Rayna thought him to be on their side, a man of old-school military tradition, and years of expertise from actual warfare. Some thought him to be senile already, but as long as he would help keep the bullshit at bay, and not discredit them instead, there would not be harm.

Rayna and Kurt entered the white-walled room, with a horseshoe-shaped table and bright overhead lights.

Immediately, Rayna recognized some of the Tech division figures present. Colonel Kurzweil Hess, in his mid-forties, who had been building much of the recent logistics network for planetary colonization, as well as overseeing the development of UPFF energy technology.

And next to him was the Lieutenant-General Theodore Hummell, the head of the whole Tech division. He was at least ten years older and seemed to watch the whole room like a hawk, the completely bald-shaven head making the impression stronger. Rayna knew little of him, except that for years he had commanded the large-class starcruiser Valhalla, which had often been used for large-scale transport missions to kickstart new colonies.

Kurzweil began to speak as soon as everyone was seated.

"Colleagues. As we know, the United Planets has an energy problem. We are lacking the materials, particularly rare earth metals, to build enough fusion cores. Therefore many of the colonies are running on outdated and unsustainable technology, going the same route as Earth."

This was not unfamiliar to Rayna. It was not a pleasant situation, but she did not immediately make the connection how it would affect anything the Intelligence branch was doing.

"The machines we have come into contact with could have a solution. Therefore, it's our suggestion we approach the situation with them with utmost care, and that the Tech division be thoroughly kept in the loop at all times."

Learning from the enemy. It was of course one of the fundamental tenets of the arts of war and something Rayna could certainly agree with, as long as the safety of the colonies would not be compromised unnecessarily just for the sake of it. She hoped that was not what Kurzweil would be suggesting, that they go soft deliberately. Though, on the other side she could expect even the old Ardon suggest the perfectly opposite course of action, attacking with excessive force before they had the chance to learn anything.

But though the idea was valuable, somehow it felt like Kurzweil was souring it just by the bureaucratic way he was presenting it.

"To be kept in the loop. That's from bullshit bingo," Kurt whispered.

"Right."

Kurzweil still was not finished.

"Furthermore, we have a suggestion that excessive use of energy during UPFF missions be regulated, especially when it comes to wild-goose chases in the distant sectors. Of course, that doesn't mean letting our defenses down."

Rayna began to zone out. This was just stupid. Excessive use of energy. At least when it came to Intelligence operations, he was barking up the wrong tree. The probes for instance had been optimized to hell and back already.

"I object to the terminology," Ardon spoke up from the opposite side of the table. "UPFF does not do wild goose chases."

"You can call it what you will. I have studied the reconnaissance missions performed in total, and they don't paint a pretty picture," Kurzweil shot back. "As well as the Turrican program. I understand the trainees are actually ferried to outer system locations for the final phase. We would recommend the use of simulators throughout, and them to be enhanced wherever they fall short."

Ardon's tone was hard.

"Simulators don't take you the final step. To be ready for war. You should know that."

To that, Kurzweil replied nothing, he just turned to the Lieutenant-General for a few seconds, and they exchanged glances that seemed almost foreboding to Rayna. Was there something more going on? Suddenly, she felt like the Intelligence division was not properly up to speed. If necessary, covert internal investigations would be in order.

* * *

Bren's team was back in the simulation. He hoped this time they would achieve decisive victories, fast and ruthlessly, just like Turricans should.

It was a recreation of the first Alterra environment. A vast desert, punctuated by large transmitter antennas and metal walkways.

This was a mission of cleanup, to take down rogue bio-organisms and security systems gone berserk.

Almost immediately they had run into large trouble. One of the security systems was a huge floating metal fist, which would strike down from the sky and easily crush them – the shield not helping for long – if they got caught under.

The answer was easy too, in Turrican style.

Concentrated overwhelming firepower.

Keeping on the move to avoid ending up directly below, they opened up with the flamethrower mode, all six streams of laser flame eating into the fist. It did not take long before it began to overheat, glowing red.

"Take cover! It's coming down!" Bren shouted.

Only a second more, and the fist landed onto the desert rocks with a terrible crashing sound. It exploded in large chunks of flying steel.

This problem solved, many more to go. The team regrouped and began to advance deeper into the recreated environment.

* * *

"You're putting up a proper fight now," Kris said to Bren.

They were sitting in one of the Academy cafeterias, after the day's worth of exercises was over. But it was just the two of them.

"Can't stop for a moment, if I want to beat this program."

To tell the truth, Bren was not that pleased with how the day had ended, though the Alterra simulation had been successful. Had their band of four dissolved already due to the competition? Vadim and Juko had each gone their separate ways. Vadim's team was still barely hanging on on the list, while Bren's was rising at least for the moment. Meanwhile Kris and his team of "berzerkers" as they called themselves, were pretty much unbeatable.

"Hey. This is just training. We shouldn't take it too seriously. I too don't like it, if it comes between us. It's so artificial. In real war we'd be all on the same side," Kris said in a changed tone, aiming for the supportive.

Bren was thankful for that. He still kept thinking of the machines out there, so the competition and the ranking list was just extra burden on top of that. The four of them should have been drinking together even now, reminiscing of the bad old Earth entertainment or whatever. Or discussing the weapons they liked best. Anything. Well, it was not a total loss if Bren could now connect with Kris a bit more.

"Did I tell you of the interview yet?" Kris asked, changing the subject.

"I don't recall."

"It was supposedly classified. But there was nothing special about it. Just going over the Alterra mission again. Though I got to meet that Captain from the first lecture."

Bren could not resist the temptation.

"Hot in a nervous way?"

Kris looked down at the table for a moment, embarrassed to a degree, but also a slight smirk on his face.

"Well, at least I didn't say exactly that. Though I still said something that could be considered actionable."

Bren understood that taken to the extreme, the action could be dishonorary discharge from the UPFF.

"Right."

"And you're still with the Green Fairy?"

Bren was sure he had not ever referred to Luna with that term, it was something Kris had pieced together himself. Possibly during the second week, when drinking after the range exercises. Bren could have been offended, but decided to let it pass.

"Sure."

Though the answer came fast, Bren knew his own voice to not be that full of conviction. It could be him just being paranoid, but it was possible a rift was growing between him and Luna. Last time they had met, it had been a lot of silence, but not in an endearing way. The worst part was if Bren was imagining the rift, and by doing that made it real.

As the training ramped up in intensity, it was hard for him to have any juice left to see things from a civilian's point of view. It was like he was drifting further, until only the military and being a Turrican remained. In this case, it would hurt even more than the band of four drifting apart.

Tell me of those vertex counts, Bren thought to himself. If there would be that prolonged silence again, that was exactly what he would say.

* * *

With the second simulated Alterra environment, the danger began to increase even further. The teams descended into a vast underground factory, its steel and concrete tunnels carved into unnatural green rock.

This was where a Turrican operator's skill for observing the situation and managing the risk would be put to the test fully. The factory contained deep, uninviting pools of water for cooling the heavy equipment, but as the bridges crossing them had been blown apart, the only way was to wade in.

The real Turrican suit would manage that just fine, the instructors told, down to a depth of about five hundred meters, and the built-in oxygen supply would keep them breathing, just like in non-livable surface conditions.

But the pools also contained packs of vicious bio-engineered piranhas, that had apparently been developed for keeping the equipment clean.

Those could swarm the unwary Turrican fast, the repeated bites of the razor-sharp teeth rapidly draining the shield, then cutting through the armor itself.

Halfway through the run Viper got himself swarmed. Bren and the rest watched his suit explode and disappear. He had activated the mode they had nicknamed "kamikaze" – explode upon operator death.

In the debriefing, Bren watched his team's names drop down on the ranking list again. He knew he should have kept better watch of all of them.

But done what was done, and better luck next time. It was just that in reality there would not be a next time.

* * *

"How do you manage it?" Bren asked Juko. "It's like this shit is not getting to you at all. You're always ... cheerful. Or something."

It was now just Bren and Juko in the empty simulator hall. They had been assigned to do basic check-up and maintenance on the stations; all Bren could do was to check that the cables were in place, while Juko would be qualified to take them apart and do open-CPU surgery if necessary.

"That may be a false impression," Juko replied. "Mostly, I try to not think about it too much. I do my best, and that's it. Then I either make it or not."

"Sounds good. Not sure if I can think the same way."

"There's something you could play. Ages old, like the music you listen to. It's in the Link library. Does not cost much. It's a trilogy, but you could start right from the last part, because then the situation is the most dire. You just have to make sure you stop before the ending, because it's shit. I warn you, seriously. Shit."

"A video game?"

"Right. It's about this Commander who faces an army of huge machines that wipe out all life in the galaxy in a repeating cycle. You may think it's a bad idea, to play something that resembles your life, but I found it helped me when I was feeling crushed by responsibilities from all directions. After, I thought, my situation is not that bad. But I played the ending too. I was so fucking angry! Too bad all who created were already dead for ages, so I couldn't send them hate mail!"

Bren was amused by Juko suddenly cursing, as it was at odds with her persona otherwise, but apparently it was a subject she felt very strongly about.

"Thanks for the suggestion. Maybe I will check it out."

* * *

The simulator maintenance done, Bren returned to his dormitory room. It would not hurt to try Juko's suggestion. Bren opened up the Link's legacy game library, and found the title quickly enough. He could tolerate the price of five credits.

However, the emulation layer it required would also require an OS update that would take some time to install. Bren had skipped the optional, non-security critical Link updates, but now, to play this, he needed to catch up.

Bren accepted the EULA, not really reading it through, and the update progress bar appeared in his field of view, crawling forward painfully slowly. It was in essence being a cyborg, as the software being updated ran on the chip in his wrist, but he rarely thought about that anymore. Being in the Turrican suit felt much more like a real cyborg.

While waiting, he opened a beer, and put on Iron Savior. "I've Been to Hell" felt fitting just now; the raw screaming voice and the aggressive drums and guitars felt like the musical equivalent of Turrican warfare.

Finally the OS update was complete, and the game itself began to load.

That was another progress bar, but thankfully faster.

Bren's view of field faded to black, with a text in the corner explaining how to exit, or to adjust the opacity of the game. It was slightly unnerving to be completely inside, so he adjusted it so that his room was barely visible, and dimmed the room lights to almost minimum.

The control system was not totally fit for the Link, but Bren understood it was simulating dual control sticks and buttons through his hand gestures. Practically, an invisible controller. Hopefully the controls wouldn't be too complicated in total.

At least navigating in the game's menus succeeded well enough. Bren started a new game, and spent some time thinking of a name for his Commander.

A bit unimaginatively he settled for Bren at last, and customized an appearance with purple hair. The proper hair style was not available for a male Commander, so for some time Bren contemplated choosing female instead. But it wasn't that big of a deal. There was a mohawk style, or an approximation of, that Bren was pleased enough with.

Then, the character's background. It probably did not make much difference, so Bren just chose at random. For experience with loss of teammates in combat, he chose "numerous," hoping that would make the story as grim as possible, owing to what Juko had told of how by playing she had realized reality was not that bad – yet.

Soon Bren was in the opening scenes.

It appeared his character was on Earth, waiting for a court martial due to his earlier actions. Well, that was already much worse than Bren's situation.

Playing on, it was not long before there was an attack by the huge squid-like sentient machines, or what the hell they were, and Bren's Commander was on the run, with just a pitiful pistol as his weapon. Bren was certainly glad that as a Turrican he had much more impressive firepower! There was an older Captain with him, which somewhat reminded Bren of Colonel Trench.

A quick siege scene, in which Bren ran out of ammunition, and the Commander was whisked away from Earth.

Bren was not an expert on games by all means, but he noticed the curious division between the sequences he could not affect at all, and the scenes where he had control. It seemed like the game was trying to manipulate him to feel something. Not that different from movies, which at times tried to do the same with over-dramatic music. When the little boy his character had found from an air vent was killed by the invading squid-machines, Bren did not feel much of anything.

It was late already, and Bren really should have been going to sleep already, but despite the game's faults, he had developed a curiosity of seeing where the story would go.

Next stop was Mars, where they were trying to get information on some superweapon that could do something, apparently to stop the squid-machines. Bren found that though he was interested, he wasn't paying serious attention. Possibly it was the combination of the beer and the weariness.

But now he had actual squadmates, and more weapons to use, so it was getting better. Soon after landing on Mars, the team encountered human enemies. These were apparently some kind of extremists or cultists. It was hard to understand what their motives were, and why they were going against other humans, if the machines were going to kill them all.

The Commander's other squadmate gave him a rough time, because he had been in the extremists' league some time in the past. Apparently this had to do with the previous part of the story, and Bren was a bit confused.

Bren also kept dying over and over, as the shield ran out (reminding roughly of the Turrican shield system, though this one auto-recharged) and his Commander started taking hits in the flesh, due to the controls being too clunky for getting into cover fast enough.

Bren gave up and set the difficulty on easiest. Then, he just started cutting through enemies left and right, almost no matter what he did. It was practically like cheating, but Bren wanted to get to the end of this mission before it was too late.

More fights, through laboratories, and a tram system. Finally the data they were trying to get was stolen by some … female cyborg-scientist? The Commander had to chase her to the outside of the laboratory.

Another cinematic, where things would happen outside of Bren's control. He was quite sure by now that games, at least of this variety, were not really his thing. And he was doubtful this could actually help him mentally. In the Turrican simulations you at least were in control each moment, though the scenarios had been programmed in by the staff.

The squadmate that had been giving the Commander a hard time earlier was seriously hurt by the cyborg. In retaliation, the Commander had to kill her in a duel of sorts. Bren wanted to see what would happen if he did not do as instructed. The death scene just cut to black before it got bloody, which was disappointing.

Retry, kill the cyborg as instructed, and the mission was over. Somewhat more touching was to see how the Commander tended to the wounded squadmate now. Though it was seriously bad practice, to carry someone with potential neck injury like that.

By now Bren put the game on background to check the history of these characters. He found an archive of an ages-old wiki website, and read through the character section quickly. Apparently that squadmate in question was a potential romantic interest for the Commander. In that case, the hard time she had given him seemed even more out of place. But Bren understood it was for the sake of drama.

Again, he thought his situation was better. Luna would not doubt him in that manner. And being a civilian, she would not get in the harm's way in the line of duty either.

So yeah, maybe Juko had been onto something after all. Though Bren thought he had not gotten into the game in the same degree as she had. Not by a long shot. Bren certainly would not have cared enough to send hate mail to the authors posthumously.

But now it was time to switch it off. And to try to sleep at last. Bren checked another section of the wiki quickly, and found that in this game, the Commander would have nightmares, to show the toll the war was taking on him. Bren recalled his own nightmare. Hopefully there would not be one now. As tomorrow the third environment of Alterra waited, and he had to be near peak capacity again.

* * *

It had to be some kind of sick joke. What purpose did this environment serve? Was it some kind of underground graveyard? The walkways in here appeared to be bone, and there were skulls bouncing around in the darkness.

Bren's team was hopelessly lost. The matters were not helped when they were ambushed by some kind of a sentient stone slab, with spikes on all sides, and a demonic face in the middle.

Just when he was about to be impaled, Bren woke up to the Link's alarm clock in his ear.

Maybe it was good timing, in fact. To wake up in the exactly right phase of sleep. He felt full of adrenaline now. A sort of a good kind of nightmare, if that was possible. He would not get his squad lost like that in reality!

* * *

The real third Alterra environment was another factory. Bren recalled Vadim's and Juko's obsession with mechanical spiders. The factory was full of them!

Clean-up duty was still the order of the day. For a moment, Bren considered if the instructors were running out of imagination.

But no. If the enemies waiting them were machines, then it was good to get prepared for every kind of machine possible. And the point was also to hone their Turrican skills, until the choice of the right weapon and the right tactic to use was instinctual – it would come in a split second.

A huge factory hall, in eye bleeding-inducing mixture of red, yellow, blue and gleaming steel, was now utterly cleansed of the spiders and other maintenance robots gone insane.

The simulation faded to black, and Bren allowed his thoughts to go a bit astray now. He thought of how much better the Commander would have fared with access to Turrican technology. But in the game, the year was only 2100 something, so it was understandable the technology would be worse.

The ranking list standings did not change much. Kris still dominated. But Bren's team was clear of the risk of elimination for now. He just had to wonder, was this another instance of the instructors making them feel too complacent, too superior already, and then the rug would be pulled from under them? Like in the first simulator mission.

The third phase would at least again change everything. Bren was sure the warfare and the risk would be very real then. Safety precautions would be observed, and the supervising officers would have their fingers anxiously hovering over shutdown remotes, but with Turrican-level firepower, that might not just be enough.

The four of them met after the debriefing, heading for the cafeteria. Bren, Kris, Vadim, Juko. That too, felt it was too good to be true. They had not drifted apart after all.

"So, now I got to roast those mechanical fuckers. Enough to last a lifetime. But it didn't feel as good as I'd imagined," Vadim confessed. "I forget, you've seen all that for real. Were they like that?"

"We didn't get to see any of them much," Kris said. "After the shit hit the fan, the focus was on ... those other fuckers. And before, the researchers and the techs didn't want us messing around too much, just keep to our patrol routes."

"Did you try what I suggested?" Juko asked Bren, somewhat more discreetly.

"Yeah. Played the first proper mission. Don't think I'll be going on from that. But it's possible it helped up to a point. And got my Link OS updated too. So, thanks."

"What class did you pick?"

"What? Fuck. I didn't even pay attention. He was just shooting a lot, and slowing down time."

Now that Bren remembered that, it was something the Turrican suit did not allow, and the only point where the fictional Commander had an edge over their real-world technology. Maybe some drug injection, that could alter one's time perception and give more time to aim? But that surely couldn't be safe with repeated or prolonged use.

* * *

The second phase of the training was nearing the halfway point, and Bren had a whole day off. He called Luna, after having made a firm decision to try to be more present, and not levitate somewhere in his silence and angst. He thought he had energy for that now, as the training had been going better.

"I'm kind of busy now," Luna answered. "The client wants to accelerate the delivery. They're paying extra for that."

"What if come to watch you work? I promise not to disturb much."

"That's OK. You know the place? Wait, I'll mark it for you."

Bren knew Luna did usually not work from her apartment, but in a small office shared with others, each with their little corner. The point was to try to separate work and the rest of life, and also to see other people. Both were probably wise things to do. In the military one was forced to see potentially too much people, some of them assholes, but designing VR worlds could easily get lonely.

Bren got out into the glare of the Starport's street lights, the waypoint superimposed on his view.

Another thing the Link allowed easily were personalized ads, displayed virtually on the buildings' walls and practically on any fitting surface.

Bren had learned to zone out of them almost completely. Sometimes they were almost humorous, like glorifying some off-world hellhole, or displaying a recruitment ad, though he was already in the UPFF.

Bren closed the half-kilometer distance to Luna's office quickly enough. He could have taken a mini-shuttle, but preferred to walk. The downtown areas of the Starports were exceedingly safe.

The concept of safety inevitably made him think back to the machine sightings. Bren kept following the civilian news too, just to know what the public was being fed, but there had been nothing on any new attacks now. Only that there was a widespread power blackout in one of the experimental colonies, where atmosphere-modification to bring about an Earth-like environment was being tested, and that was dominating the news cycle almost to exhaustion now.

Bren entered the office lobby and took the elevator to the second floor. A minute later he was at Luna's desk. It was empty for the most part, as she was doing most of the work in the privacy of her Link view, deterring any would-be spies, but there was a tablet for taking notes or browsing the net while resting one's eyes for a while.

"Hi," Bren said.

Luna turned and smiled briefly. "I've been submerged in these pipes for months. Good it's over soon."

"Can you share the view?"

"Strictly speaking I shouldn't, but I know I can trust a Tin Man. The client can't find out about it anyway."

Bren knew the nickname meant Luna was proud of him being in the Turrican program – it was not to demean.

He accepted her Link feed, and found himself in a world that was far stranger than the Alterra environments. Well, with the exception of the bone-walkways. But that had been a dream.

A veritable maze of pipes crisscrossing in all of the three dimensions, going into huge boilers, various readings superimposed on top of them.

Bren was suddenly very glad to be in the UPFF. Military ranks, tactics and high-tech weapons were at least something he could understand. This was something else. But someone needed to master this kind of work environment, or otherwise Luna wouldn't be recreating it virtually.

"Uh … I'm going to say something potentially stupid. But I decided it already some time ago," Bren said. The view did not become any easier to understand even after some looking, and he adjusted its opacity down.

Luna's eyebrows raised, and her voice sounded puzzled in an almost dreamlike way, like Bren could get lost in it again. "What is it?"

"Tell me of the vertex counts. You're fighting them still?"

Luna paused for a moment, like she had been taken by complete surprise.

"That's not stupid. It never stops. These pipes have to be able to change color for the temperature simulation, so they have to be subdivided. That increases the vertex count. And it's a mess like you saw. None of it would be a problem, but they want to run it on the previous gen tech. So … I've had to contract these guys to do some fairly advanced dynamic optimization, and hiding of the invisible parts. The company's called Penumbra. The client wasn't too happy about it, as every piece of extra software has to be audited, but it's the only way to do it in this timetable."

Bren found this mostly going over his head. But Luna's voice was calming to listen, even if she was practically describing warfare of her own.

* * *

Something still bothered Rayna, as she was submerged into the logs, reports and probe footage again, both recent and the old material that had been shown to the Turrican trainees.

She was looking at the stars on the background of the probe camera view. It was a route the probes had flown through several times, almost numbing the Intelligence officers with boredom. Were the stars somehow… in different position?

But that should be impossible.

"Kurt? Come look at this."

Rayna could imagine him yawning and not really wanting to get up from his terminal. Except for her insistent searches through the old material, the day had been quiet again. Yet, soon after she heard the creak of his office chair, and Kurt came over.

"Does the indicated route and location of the probe match with the visuals? Look at the constellations."

Kurt's brow creased for a while, as he too submerged in thought.

"It doesn't look right. It makes me think… the probe route has deviated closer. Closer to the Starports. But that's..."

Rayna felt coldness, even dread creeping over her mind. She forced it to the background.

"Sabotage?"

Kurt shook his head and spoke calmly. "More like a malfunction. The navigation systems aren't foolproof. Cosmic rays have actually been known to flip bits. We'll have to recall the probe to the nearest station for recalibration, and then we'll know better."

Still Rayna thought that it was safer to take the more extreme and hostile interpretation. A possible deliberate compromise of the probes, to make the machine sightings appear further away than they were in reality…

"I will escalate this in any case."

"I probably wouldn't, but do as you like."

With those words, Kurt was on his way back to his side of the office. Rayna was somewhat disappointed at not being taken seriously. She began typing the report to her superior, Major Nova Krieger. Nova had a quick temper and little tolerance for bullshit, but in this instance Rayna thought her concern was valid.

While typing, a part of her mind expected alarm lights and klaxons to start blaring all over the office, warning of an impending machine-craft attack.

But of course nothing like that happened, and she began to calm down. She looked over the report a total of five times, making sure there was nothing unnecessary, just the heart of the matter. It would have been more to the protocol to verify this with the techies, but it could have taken days, and individual confirmation by both Kurt and Rayna had to be enough. The worst that could happen would be to chewed out by Nova. While at best she had just increased their readiness for a serious danger at hand.

At last she clicked "send" on her terminal.

Done what's done.

She had overtime hours in store, and nothing pending, so she could leave one hour early. She shut off the terminal and soon, was on her way out of the Intelligence offices and into her spacey, if empty apartment in one of the towers.

* * *

Another drop-off to a mission zone. Alterra environments were at last left behind. Now it was time to take back a terra- and atmosphere-forming facility taken over by secessionist forces. They had hijacked and reprogrammed a formidable amount of UPFF machinery, so it was not going to be pretty.

"Remember! Attack with brutal force at every opportunity, but manage the risk! Watch the shield levels!" Bren reminded his squad. They had been doing well, but it was never time to get cocky.

The dropship came to a quick landing, and they were on their way out from the rear door.

But Bren could tell that something wasn't right as they exited onto the planet surface. It was just a tangle of sharp edges and malformed rocks, flickering in and out of his vision.

A software glitch!

Bren felt his heart sink. Of course they wouldn't be penalized for this malfunction, but having to retry the mission would eat away the momentum.

Suddenly his vision went totally black and the simulation ended.

Bren heard Achim shouting.

"Trainees! We have a situation. The simulation database is corrupted, and it won't be repaired today. We'll head to the outdoor range instead, and act this out in reality! It will be a taste of what phase three will be like!"

Proper war, with the proper suits. Bren thought he would welcome that. But just then, there was something which he recognized as yet another change of plans. A shrill repeating alarm started to sound, the lights on the simulator hall's ceiling and walls flashing red now.

A high-pitched, tense male voice came through from the speakers.

"The Starport is under attack by an unknown force. This is not a drill! Everyone, take your stations. I repeat – the Starport is under attack!"


	5. World 2-1

**World 2-1**

Bren ran down the Academy corridors, his heart pounding. His assigned station would be the Katakis squadron – he'd take it to the Starport's internal skies to look out for the attackers, and repel them.

There would be a short briefing, but Bren had a pretty good idea of what to expect. The machines were already here! How had they outsmarted the UPFF intelligence? It sounded outrageous. But maybe it was just like in the game, when there was a surprise attack even when the Commander was still just waiting for his court hearing.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Bren was aware that the lives of the Starport citizens, Luna included, would be in their hands now. Bren also knew he was rusty due to concentrating on the Turrican training and not refreshing his piloting skills at all.

As he entered the elevator that would take him to the Katakis briefing rooms and hangars, he met with a small group of other Katakis pilots he recognized – callsigns Hypremo, Toaster and Blacksword. All reliable pilots with untold hours in the cockpit.

"It's going to be pure murder. I mean, us murdering them," Hypremo boasted.

"Just remember that you have to watch out. You don't want to blow a hole in the sky," Toaster reminded.

Bren just kept quiet. After the briefing would be over, he would know better. If the skies were already breached, they would not need to watch out that much. There were containment systems, including foam generators that could repair breaches to a degree, and an inner shell that would cover the buildings in a serious emergency, but that was not a long-term livable condition. In the end all the damage would have to be repaired so that the Starport would remain viable.

The elevator pinged for the third floor, the briefing rooms, and the four of them poured out.

* * *

At her apartment, Luna had been conversing with the client for last-minute changes, when the Link video call suddenly shut down to pure black. It was replaced by an emergency broadcast in white letters:

 _The Link service is suspended due to security reasons. Stay calm and stay inside, away from doors and windows. Get to below ground if possible, but only if possible without going outdoors. Repeat: do not go outdoors. This broadcast will repeat in ten seconds…_

Luna thought that suddenly too much made sense. Bren's silence, even his unnatural interest to know of the work she was doing. He had been hiding something. Everything had been building to this. The Starport under attack! In that case, Luna could imagine several very unpleasant scenarios. Being buried under its steel rubble, or being sucked out to space…

But if so, who would the attackers be? Pirates, or the rebels who wanted independence from UPFF? Would they even have resources for that? And what would they possibly gain? Not any sympathy at least.

Unless it was something else.

Still, Luna felt an odd sense of calm. Possibly, it would not have made that much difference to know, whatever innermost military secrets Bren had been guarding. If the Starport was not safe, then what other place would be? Certainly most of the colonies were defended much worse. Here, there was the military Academy and much of the top brass even, as Bren had told, so it was possibly still the best place to be holed up in the case of an attack.

The large windows of her apartment presented a problem. But thankfully there was at least a degree of a solution. The Link was out of commission now, so Luna had to use the physical controls. Next to the window, there was a control panel, and she hit the "close" switch, bringing heavy steel shutters over the windows with a dull metallic sound.

Much safer. Though the metallic clang was somehow final and ominous, just like the sarcophagus stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Luna started to think a bit further. The apartment was on the sixth floor of a ten-story tower. The center stairwell would be safer, but she could wait for a bit before heading out of the apartment. So far there had been no sounds from the outside, actually nothing out of the ordinary apart from the emergency broadcast.

What if it was all just practice? To check the readiness of Starport for an emergency? It would not be out of question. Still, Luna thought she had better assume the situation was real.

She also had one more ace up her sleeve. The Link scrambler. The network was down, but she was sure her CPU was still transmitting, at least some base level signal. Whatever attackers were out there, they could still home on that. But the scrambler would ensure complete silence, the black market dealer had said.

* * *

The enemy was here, was all that Rayna could think just now. Only yesterday she and Kurt had noticed the discrepancy, and now the machines were here already!

Nova had commended Rayna's initiative. They had not been caught completely unaware. But still they should have anticipated this much earlier. And the Starport advance warning systems should have worked better. The fighters were already taking to the sky, but the radar displays were not promising. The amount of blips was staggering, coming from every direction. It could turn into a total massacre, even an end of the Starport as it was known. It was the first one built, and housing much of UPFF's higher command. Its loss would be extremely demoralizing.

Rayna wished she could do more, instead of just sitting here, reading the displays and helping to coordinate the response.

Though, what exactly? She had gone through the basic training, and knew how to operate lightweight armor and phaser weapons. But those would do little against the insect-killers. She would only manage to get herself shot to pieces.

There were already sightings captured by the Starport's outer cameras. Just the same as on the probe footage. Screw those bugs, if they could be called that. Somehow Rayna thought back to the Alterra bughunt, and Kris. What would he be doing now? Would he use a Katakis fighter as well?

"Auto-cannons are online!" Kurt shouted.

At least that was good news. They would track any incoming foes without mercy, while making sure they would not fire in a manner that would damage the Starport itself.

"Singularity generators arming now..." Kurt went on.

Those were heavy-duty weapons, safe only for deployment outside the Starport. Essentially, they would generate a short-lived miniature black hole, sucking the enemies in and crushing them to a point of extremely heavy metal, then dissipating.

"Wait … Fuck! They're all disabling now. It's like the power is leaking!"

That was not promising. If the auto-defenses were down, everything would need to be done in a very much old-school manner. Furthermore, Rayna thought they needed more than just destroying all of them. Enemies should be captured to be studied, if at all possible. But in the middle of an aerial fight, that was easier said than done.

* * *

The speed was dizzying, as Bren's Katakis fighter launched from the catapult into the Starport sky. All systems were online and he was ready to roll.

The briefing had not been much to write home about. Defend the Starport at all costs. Destroy all hostiles. The squadron leader, Captain Joachim Hippel, had been extremely to the point. But there was not much more to say. He had shown images of the insect-craft from several orientations, and Bren certainly knew what to shoot at.

Bren consulted the radar. There was already a breach on his sector, so he hit the afterburners. Much like the Turrican suit, the Katakis was also packed full of total firepower, like the dual cobalt blasters, whose shots could fan out like the suit's Multiple, and a superlaser that could be charged up to unleash a concentrated but wide beam that would practically eliminate everything in its way.

However, that everything would also mean the Starport buildings and the artificial sky. So Bren would need to pay attention. Thankfully the on-board computer would help to a degree, keeping the weapons locked on the hostiles.

Bren recalled several Gamma Ray lyrics, almost melting into one. Again, there were supersonic killers in the sky. But the Katakis squadrons were the stellarian fighters ready to strike, and the alien vessels would be burning tonight!

He knew he could be setting himself up for a false expected victory with that kind of psyching-up, but he thought he needed all the motivation he could summon.

He pulled back on the control stick and the Katakis soared upward, toward the breach. A ten seconds more, and his targeting computer beeped, telling of bogeys in range. The display in the center of the cockpit lit up, showing an enlarged view of the acquired target.

Certainly, one of the insect-machines.

Bren selected the cobalt blasters, and rammed his finger on the trigger. The blasters spun up, sending dual streams of white-blue death toward the enemy. It did not take the fire well, quickly overheating and turning red-yellow, then exploding in a fireball.

But from behind the dissipating cloud of fire and smoke, Bren saw several more of the insect-craft emerging. The Katakis fighter shook as they started firing back with their red lasers, and the shield depleted. Bren launched his fighter into an evasive roll, cursing his just a momentary lapse of attention and early celebration of victory.

Out of the harm's way, the shield began to recharge. Slowly, but still.

"Residential towers being fired at in the Gamma sector!" came the voice on the fighter's radio.

Bren felt suddenly cold. It took him just a split-second to map the UPFF designations into actual streets, but … wasn't that where Luna's apartment was?

This had just turned deeply personal.

Luna, I'll get there in time, Bren thought to himself, and banked the Katakis fighter hard right, forgetting the chasing pack of the machine-craft.

* * *

The Academy building floor shook underneath them. It too was being targeted. More than ever now, Rayna wished to be armed to the teeth. If not in a fighter craft, a Turrican suit would be the next logical choice. Though she had no training, and she had no illusions she could be efficient without.

Their orders were to keep coordinating the defense from the Intelligence office. It was deep in the center of the Academy, so they were safe for the time being, no matter if there was a minor artificial earthquake going on.

But the shaking did not subside.

If anything, it was becoming even worse by the second. Rayna thought –

And it was almost like her thoughts were becoming reality. With the sound of rending metal and concrete, rubble started to fall from the ceiling. They needed to evacuate the office now, before they got themselves buried!

In that case there would be certainly be no more coordinating attacks, with them either waiting rescue pitifully, or being dead already.

Into the corridor, then.

"Everyone out!" Rayna shouted, summoning confidence almost out of thin air. "Into the armory, if the route is clear!"

She, Kurt and the rest of the officers got out in the corridor. It seemed to be tilting to the left and right, and the dust and rubble continued to fall, though not as heavily in the office. Already, their light-blue uniforms were getting smeared with dirt.

Rayna knew their armory would only hold standard-issue (that is, low-grade) weaponry. But better that than being completely unarmed. Or staying in the office. She hoped the Katakis crew would do their job properly, even without their guidance. There would be emergency terminals in the armory they could use to get back in contact.

Unless the armory was burying itself too.

* * *

Luna heard the noise from the outside now, the distant bassy rumble, but getting closer all the time. It certainly was the sound of war, the Starport under attack. The UPFF should have been telling better what was going on. The same emergency broadcast repeated, and Luna had shut it off several minutes ago.

She went for the drawers of her desk, and took out the Link scrambler, a small rectangular device. It was time to enter a heightened state of blackout, to make sure she was safe, even if the UPFF could not be trusted to do that.

Was she distrusting even Bren now?

She did not intend her thoughts that way. Likely, he would now be following orders, according to some large-scale plan the UPFF high command had in mind. To minimize the casualties and damage to the Starport, while the safety of any single citizen could not be guaranteed.

Of course she would have liked Bren to come straight here, and them both blasting off in a Katakis fighter into safety. But that was extremely likely out of the question. So, the next best thing.

Total Link blackout within her apartment.

Luna pressed the button on the scrambler, and it went live.

* * *

The computer-brain of the machine-insect craft analyzed its surroundings. There were large tall box-shapes, which were buildings, containing potential human targets. It could use its firepower at its leisure to annihilate them, according to the instructions from the Machine.

But now it was quiet. Disturbingly quiet, so that the brain did not know where to aim. The network system that the targets were using had shut itself down for the most part.

Suddenly there was a burst of uncoordinated energy. A part of the network was activating again. It was a scramble transmission, but better that than nothing.

The brain locked the craft's weapons on the center of the energy burst.

The weapons – ruby laser blasters of devastating capability – were set on maximum power, and the craft fired. Several times.

There was a satisfying explosion of splintering and vaporizing steel.

It became quiet on the network again, with the transmitter apparently destroyed, so the brain did not know what more to do here. The craft's sensors were not capable of detecting human target annihilation from this distance. But the primary instructions in that case were to regroup.

Until it remembered, a nanosecond later, the set of override instructions, also relayed from the Machine and stored into the brain's databanks.

Yes. Do that, then join the rest.

* * *

From the cockpit of the Katakis, Bren saw the distant volley of laser fire directed at the tower building. And he felt his world descending into potential blackness. He was fairly sure that was Luna's building, and he had been too late.

Don't jump into conclusions too early, he reminded himself. She could be safe in the center stairwell, or even in the basement. He could do little from here, except to unleash vengeance on any of the enemy craft escaping the scene.

Fought one-on-one, the enemy ships were not really a match for the Katakis. So as long as he avoided himself getting swarmed, and made sure he had enough shield left, he could take them down from the sky one by one. And there were the rest of the fighters too.

Together, they would give the machines hell, Bren thought. They would be driven out of the Starport with overwhelming wrath.

But he did not really want to think of the aftermath, and what it would reveal. It was almost as if he wanted to never land again.

* * *

Rayna and the officers reached the armory now, wasting no time to put on the battle vests and helmets, and taking the standard issue phaser rifles from the racks on the walls.

The rifles were a step up from the pistols. Still, using their repeating but small-power fire would be a mostly hopeless proposition too, unless they managed to hit some critical parts on the craft, like engine intakes.

The armory was one floor up from the offices, and thankfully here the shaking and rumbling was less intense. If they needed to evacuate, the route to the roof was not long – it would be through the trapezoidal Intelligence high command quarters.

Right at the moment, staying inside sounded safer though.

Kurt went to one of the armory's terminals, and Rayna got the one next to him. It was time to check again how their standing was. The Link service was down now, so things needed to be done traditionally. Better that way. It was only prudent to assume the enemies would be tracking any Link transmissions, in which case any of the citizens or soldiers would present a target if the system remained on.

The status check was chaotic, to say the least. Aerial battles were still raging on throughout the Starport sky, and almost half of the buildings had been hit to some degree. The sky breaches were numerous and were already reaching hazardous levels. The artificial atmosphere pressure was keeping the whole interior of the Starport together to a degree – a cascading collapse could follow in the worst case.

If it came to that, they would have to proceed to emergency evacuation in the starships. Rayna knew all of the population would not fit. If it came to that, then the UPFF would have failed its duty to protect its citizens bitterly. The Starports had been billed as the safest and highest standard of living in all of the UPFF space.

With nothing immediate to do, Rayna went back in time in her thoughts.

"Kurt? How do you think this is possible? We didn't get advance warning."

Kurt's expression was blank for the most part.

"You know how it is. No drill can prepare you enough for the real thing. You don't know if the systems calibrations are right, and that they mesh together, until the shit hits the fan for real."

Rayna knew Kurt was applying, to a degree, an IT support mindset, and it made her almost angry. They both had been handling the software side of Intelligence operations, so it was an easy trap to fall into.

"But this is war, with real lives at stake! You can't take the same attitude as updating the UPFF global calendar and messaging system. No-one dies if that crashes! But if the advance warning procedures don't work, then they damn well need to be changed!"

"Calm down. Now all that matters is that we survive this attack. The Katakis pilots are doing well."

To a degree Kurt was right. Part of the problem was also that UPFF had never had a real, serious enemy, until now. It had expanded, possibly grown too lazy and content. Though they had been developing formidable military technology, the pirate and secessionist attacks had not been enough to keep them on their toes properly. The probe sightings and everything should have been scrutinized with much more care.

But now ... nothing to do but to stay holed up here as the Katakis squadrons either finished the job, or not?

Suddenly Rayna was alerted out of her thoughts. It was not the earthquake-like rumbling, but a harsher sound of rending steel beams, joined by a whine like jet engines, coming from above. She almost froze in horror as the ceiling began to split open, the between-floor structures and some electric sparks visible from the gash.

The armory was under attack! One of the enemy fighters possibly burrowing its way in! Quickly, she forced herself to regain composure and stay active. If it was just that, could their firepower do anything?

"Find cover!" Rayna shouted, taking the phaser rifle into her hands. To tell the truth, she should have been on the range much more frequently to be efficient, but if the scenario was what she imagined, it would be just a matter of unleashing all the firepower they could from a minimal distance. They could still get buried under the falling craft, engulfed in the resulting explosion, or any other unpleasant scenarios.

Still, it was too late to try to exit the armory.

So she, Kurt and the rest dived under the closest tables they could find, the weapons at hand. The noise went on, coming closer, as the ceiling gash widened, and the armory began to shake just like the Intelligence office.

Then the bright overhead lights went out, leaving just the faint green emergency lighting.

Abandoning cover just for a moment, Rayna hazarded a quick peek upward and thought she saw a large dark shape coming through. In the darkness, it was even harder to see.

"It's one of them!" Kurt shouted, becoming angry too at last. And almost as one, they rammed fingers on their triggers and the phaser rifles spat out streams of destructive energy up into the ceiling, toward the approaching shape. It was hopeless to try to aim for any weak spots, as they honestly could not see shit, so they kept behind cover, firing blind.

The seconds stretched longer in Rayna's mind. This could be the end, and she could only hope it would be fast – perhaps a brief red-hot agony, then oblivion.

The overheat indicator on the rifle was reaching critical – Rayna needed to stop firing, or risk an emergency cooldown, that would mean an even longer pause. She peeked out from under the table again, and thought she recognized it now. Certainly a machine fighter craft. The bulbous nose cone was hovering out of the gash now.

The rest still fired.

But it appeared the craft's descent was coming to an end at last. It had expended its power, getting too tangled in the steel beams.

Relative silence descended just for a few seconds, as its motion halted. Then something dawned on Rayna. The danger might still not be over.

"Watch out! There can be occupants –"

The rifle's heat indicator had gone down a notch, but before she could fire, she was alerted by a rapid mechanical rattle and whine, followed by a gurgling sound, all of them almost from right next to her.

She turned to look, leading with the rifle.

It was Kurt, down on his knees in a pool of blood, a grotesque smaller machine-insect embedded in his chest. The armor had not protected him much. Rayna took a step back in disgust, then considered: she could not really fire without potentially hurting Kurt more, yet the machine needed to be eliminated. And there could be yet more, dropping from the ceiling hole.

"Watch out, if there's more of them!" she hissed, and suddenly the armory felt much more like a scene of insane, inhuman horror. The officers had their rifles trained to the ceiling, but Rayna knew it could be hopeless to see. They would have needed light-amplification goggles, or other enhanced vision.

More mechanical rattle came from the above. There were more of them coming. And the one tangled in Kurt was still live too.

Then it dawned on Rayna. There still had to be something in the armory that could potentially save their asses, something they had overlooked.

She ran to the grenade cases in the back, opening them almost in random, trying to recognize the right shape. An EMP grenade ... Right now it would not matter if they would fry everything inside the armory, if they also took out the small bugs, and stayed alive.

Finally, she knew she had the right one. A rectangular one with a lightning symbol on it. She began tossing them to the rest.

"EMPs! Let's fry the bastards!"

Then something small jumped at her from the shadows, and Rayna knew she had been just a bit late, though with just the right idea. But the Reaper would not care, so she would die just the same.

Just then the armory was lit up by energy gunfire from extremely close by. The mechanical assailant was hit and thrown against the wall, then exploded, and Rayna recoiled back by instinct, feeling the heat wave, plus metal fragments scraping her uniform and hands.

She looked to the direction of the gunfire and saw that several Turrican suit-equipped soldiers had entered the armory.

They had been saved, just in time. Though was it too late for Kurt? Rayna felt shaky all of a sudden, coming out of a brush with certain death with very little margin.

To combat the feeling, she forced herself into an Intelligence mindset. The trapped enemy craft would be investigated and dissected thoroughly by the technicians. That at least brought comfort.

One of the Turricans opened his helmet visor. It was Kris.

"It's clear! But that officer needs medical aid!" he shouted.

Next his eyes locked with Rayna's, and for a few seconds the look on them was quite different than in the interview. Hard and focused, expecting more war any moment. But as he saw the situation was being taken care of, just the confidence remained.

* * *

Finally the battle over Starport was over. The end result was not pretty, with the death toll in the thousands, and repair drones working overtime, starting with the critical artificial sky patching, though the other structure damage was excessive too. But they had prevailed against the machine-aggressors.

Bren endured the initial debriefing, waiting only for the moment when the Link connectivity would be restored and he could check if Luna would be alright.

At last, the system was back online. And there was a disheartening "offline" status next to her.

Bren wanted to be optimistic. That could still mean anything. But he could not deny his anxiety growing, to almost an intolerable degree.

A few hours later, when the Katakis squadrons were finally dismissed for the day, he received a call. Janice Jensen. That probably had to be Luna's mother.

Bren steeled himself to accept the call. And as the words sunk in, now he thought the descent into black he had imagined came for real.

Luna was gone, killed by enemy fire on the building.

He had no precise recollection of what he had said, and only by slipping halfway into his military role he had been able to form coherent sentences. Probably something to the effect of "My condolences. To me too, she was an exceptional person. A light in my life."

The call was thankfully short. The funeral service would be the one common to all the Starport attack victims. Bren knew of the procedure, as it would be the same on all UPFF stations, but this would be the first time he would actually see it live.

Bren drew a deep breath. He imagined his future now, focused on just the military. Luna's presence, her comforting words, or even her explanations of unreasonable VR client demands, forever gone.

Still, actual tears would not come.

He considered getting his head royally messed up with alcohol. Go commiserate with his band of four, if he found them. If they all were alive after the attack.

A further disturbing thought entered his mind. The paranoid question of whether he was handling this in the way he was supposed to. Was he devastated enough? What if Luna had been just an escape for him? Not someone truly important. Just a civilian. Someone he would not trust with the knowledge of an impending deadly threat, and possibly because of that, she was dead now.

He thought back to her nightmare. It was almost like Luna had foreseen her own death. Bren recalled Janice's words, that she had received an apparent laser blast right through her eye. Perhaps it brought some comfort that the end had been quick, nothing like the slow suffocation in the dream.

* * *

At least the funeral ceremony was something exceptional, almost uplifting in a way.

The caskets were launched as an almost continuous stream through portholes in the outer wall of the Starport, and after flying far enough to be safe, they would erupt in flames due to the potent oxidizer stored within.

A fireworks of death, that would let the surviving Starport citizens close this chapter, then return to the business of rebuilding.

Of course, some would be leaving. Dissatisfaction in the UPFF was certainly rising after it had failed to prevent the attack and protect its citizens properly. The secessionists were gearing up their online campaigns, though their extremely tiny military capability made them look just ridiculous. UPFF was still the best hope mankind had.

In the large hall overlooking the ceremony, Bren met Janice live, along with Luna's father Fabian. Not many words were exchanged, but Bren did his best to act in a professional, yet supportive manner. Janice did botanical consultation for terraforming operations. Fabian was a bio-engineer.

Bren thought back to his paranoia, of whether he was handling this right, and wondered how many others in the hall were thinking exactly the same. Somewhat absurdly he even thought of how the Commander in the game would have acted. Or what kind of song Gamma Ray would have written in honor of Luna. Bren certainly knew he would not be capable of writing anything, at least now. Well, maybe this blank feeling was his way of mourning her, and it was good enough.

Then it would be back to purely military matters. At least now Bren felt more motivated than ever to finish the Turrican training. One thing was clear, that those machine-insects would have to pay.

Bren had already heard that one of the enemies had burrowed itself in the Intelligence division armory roof, and in the best case, if they could access its flight data, they could trace it back to whatever hellhole it came from. Naturally, traveling far in space to exact vengeance would be risky. Lives should not be wasted unnecessarily. They needed solid intel on the total strength of the enemy.

In the worst case, they had now met a supreme predator, and humanity would be the prey. Bren shuddered at the thought. What to do in response, would be clear at least. To fight to the last.

Bren knew it was easy to say now, when the war had only just started.

It could become a long, hard, bitter fight, and in the end you would wish for a merciful, quick death. Wasting away in the middle of a galactic war on some godforsaken colony, cut away from supply lines and everything dwindling down, would be an awful way to go. Yet that was the likely way it would go for many.

Fuck.

Only now Bren began to properly think of the scale of the UPFF, what it meant for humanity to be spread all over the galaxy. It was possibly better that way, than to put your eggs all in one basket, yet somehow Bren was sure the machines could find a way to hunt them down no matter where. The Starport attack had been so audacious, it certainly was a final warning sign to start taking things seriously.


	6. World 2-2

**World 2-2**

"Due to the Starport attack and re-prioritizing our resources, there will be exceptional arrangements made for the Turrican training," Captain Damon Thorne spoke to the class.

Bren did not like where this was going to. Exceptions never ended up well.

"The top third of the ranking list can choose to complete phase three of their training by taking part in an operation aboard the starship Avalon 1, to follow the trail of the machine-craft to where they came from. Some of you already took part of security operations here on the Academy, suited up. Meanwhile, for the rest, your training is put on hold and you are to return to your existing duties."

Bren felt his heart sinking. He would not even become a Turrican operator. He had only tasted the power, then it would be taken away already. That, in addition to losing Luna to the machines. It felt like the universe was on a very cruel streak to him now.

Of their band of four, only Kris would make the cut, and they all would go on their separate ways: Vadim to blow things up, Juko to either fix or sabotage them, and Bren would resume flying Katakis fighters.

On the surface, it was not a bad deal. The Katakis had proven to be formidable against the machine-insects, at least when fought one-to-one. But still, the Turrican suit represented the height of their technology, and Bren felt he had been very much promising, utilizing the tactics and weapons almost to the maximum already. Yet here he was, denied of the honor. No Turrican for you.

"Make no mistake, it will be an extremely dangerous operation. The Avalon 1 will potentially be venturing to unknown reaches of space, and that's why we ask volunteers," Damon went on. "But in case of someone in the top third chooses not to embark on the operation, the next on the list will get the opportunity."

Suddenly Bren thought that this could still get interesting. The final completed simulation had left him over the halfway mark. Though, if the trainees were to display the proper UPFF spirit, they would all volunteer. But Bren knew that after the attack, some were losing their faith. Vadim was almost on that precipice.

"Fuck. What can we do against them? It can be that I've done my last demolition," he had said.

"What else would you do then?" Bren had shot back.

"An extremely good question. To be honest, right now I have no idea."

Bren was jolted back to the present as Damon raised his voice.

"Now, I will start reciting names from the top of the list. Raise your hand if you volunteer!"

"Sergeant Anatoli Kabanov!"

Aka Marauder. This long-haired fellow was practically Kris's right hand man in Turrican warfare, so accomplished that he had overtaken Kris on the list, despite Kris receiving leadership bonuses for all successful actions of his team.

Anatoli raised his hand almost on reflex.

"Lieutenant Kris Escher!"

Bren watched Kris raise his hand, almost as fast. It could become a hunt just as bad as Alterra, or actually much worse, but he did not hesitate.

* * *

Kurt would live. Just with an artificial heart and lungs that were still notorious of possible unpredicted failure, and he would certainly be confined to a desk job and facing early retirement due to possible cascading organ deterioration. But it still beat being dead immediately.

Rayna was visiting him at the Academy's hospital ward. Considering his encounter with the small metal insect, he looked unusually healthy already. But looks could be deceiving, as he was still under heavy painkillers.

"Interesting. That the machine contained pretty much full waypoint information we can use trace back to where it came from. Though if we accept the premise that they potentially sabotaged our probes' navigation, and also the Starport's warning sensors, it wouldn't be a stretch to guess they would also feed us some false data. To get us on a wild goose chase, or right into a trap," Kurt mused.

"Yes, we've been considering all of those scenarios. Still, the final decision remains, that it's an acceptable risk. Let's say I'm not exactly thrilled. But I'm going too," Rayna replied.

"I'm sure it will be quite a trip."

Kurt's expression was again somewhat unreadable, but certainly less than enthusiastic. Well, if he thought she was embarking on a suicide mission, it was understandable.

Then Rayna remembered what else she wanted to talk about.

"There's still parts of their communications we don't understand. During the attack, we captured some extremely wide-band burst transmissions the craft were sending. Very large amounts of data. Potentially, they have relays to pass them forward. We've tried to analyze that data, but no luck so far."

"Hmm. Just flight or targeting info would not need that kind of volume."

Just then Rayna heard the door open, as another figure entered the room. She turned to look, and her heart sank. A most unwelcome interruption. But as the person was of higher rank, there was not much alternative than to tolerate him.

Colonel Kurzweil Hess.

"Captain, I have been looking for you. I want to say that it's a pleasure to have such a sound and analytic mind on board for the mission. The intel you have sounds very promising, to say the least. If we are able to seek out the machines' home world, or some other significant base of operations, we could gain insights into their energy technology. Just like I explained at our last meeting."

Rayna thought it made sense, but still the message came from a person she had a rather low regard for. So did that corrupt or negate the message somehow? That was not the analytic thinking fit for Intelligence operations, yet Rayna could not help herself.

Also, that kind of slimy flattery never sat that well with her. She would rather take a grunt's direct compliment, remembering what Kris had said to her after the armory.

"You put quite a number of holes in that craft. And almost took out the small bastards with EMPs."

Rayna's reply was somewhat harsh, the adrenaline still flowing. "Keyword being, almost. We'd have been dead in a matter of seconds, if your team had not intervened."

"Don't be too hard on yourself. These enemies are tough. Much worse, much quicker than the Alterra bugs."

Rayna had liked to be told that, though at the moment she had not understood she would be going after the same enemies on a short notice.

* * *

It came down to the final available place for the third phase. After Kris's "berzerkers," surprisingly many had declined. There were still two on the list above Bren.

"Sergeant Major Pär Brodén!"

Also known as Howitzer. Tall and fair-haired, he looked like certified hero material. Heritage from the northern corners of the fallen Earth. But he sat unmoving, not going to raise his hand, and Bren felt his heart pounding harder. Only one before him now.

A part of him felt wrong – there had been a devastating attack costing real lives, yet here he was getting all excited of making it to the last training spot. Though it would not be just training. If he got in, he would give his everything to strike at the machines.

"Second Lieutenant Jayne Lancaster!"

The surname already sounded like warfare. He was a compact killing machine, callsign Strider. Jayne began to raise his hand, and Bren felt his dream come crashing down to the ground.

Well, it would have been too good to be true.

"That completes the part of the class to go to the phase three and the mission," Damon spoke. "I wish you all the best–"

"Sir?"

That was Jayne, with his voice – suddenly unsure?

"Can I change my mind?"

Complete silence descended to the class. Damon stared at Strider with a gaze like ice. At last he spoke, the words slow and harsh just like his eyes.

"We're not forcing everyone. But think it through carefully. Is that going to be your final decision? We do not appreciate going in circles."

Bren dared not to breathe.

"Yes. I decline."

Now Bren almost felt like passing out, and recalled how Katakis pilots would practice tolerating G-forces, by tensing their body completely. He thought he would need to do the same now.

"In that case – Lieutenant Bren McGuire?"

Bren shot his right hand up at once, considering the potential certain death he had volunteered into only a split-second later. But he was not going to withdraw. He was going to become a Turrican, and no-one was going to take that away from him now!

* * *

The four were at the Space Slug again. After the initial excitement, Bren could not deny the cold rush of apprehension. But no turning back now.

Amazingly, all of them would be going on the mission. Only Bren and Kris would be doing that in the Turrican suits; Vadim had been called on for his destructive skills, and Juko for her technical ability.

"I'm probably going to regret this," Vadim said, downing a shot of vodka. "Still, if the high brass says I can make a difference, then I guess I just need to believe."

"You blow up things. If that doesn't make a difference, then what?" Juko replied, then finished her tequila.

In theory it would be straightforward. Find them and destroy them. Or at least learn enough of them to make it possible to destroy them at some point in the future. But once they were that far, returning was certainly not guaranteed. It was possible the Avalon 1 would be lost into the hands of the machines. Since the mission had been greenlit at all, that had to be an acceptable loss.

"Likely each of us will regret at some point," Kris said. "But that's what we signed up for. And we'll have the best. Both the technology and the crew. If that isn't enough, then nothing will be. Then we can go to our space graves knowing we did our best."

"At least beats sitting on your ass here when the insects come back with more force. Because I bet they will," Bren said, adding to the somber atmosphere. But it felt proper. He took a gulp of the cold beer, and sunk deeper into his thoughts, until Juko turned to him.

"Hey. I saw you at the ceremony. Do you want to talk about it?"

Being medicated enough already, Bren thought he could.

"There's not much to say. The enemy fire blasted through the window shutters. I was headed there, but the distance was too great. Luna was killed instantly."

Juko shook her head in sympathy.

"That's just shitty. If I forget, when we encounter their machine-leader, remind me to short-circuit its brain in the most painful way possible."

A few chuckles, then silence, until Kris spoke up.

"Hey. Bren made it to the mission with the skin of his teeth, though I'd say he'd have deserved his place with no uncertainty. And he soldiered on, even after that. That is worth drinking to."

"Let's drink to Bren, the Turrican," Vadim said. Bren could not detect any trace of bitterness.

The preparations for the mission would start already tomorrow, but it was still comparatively early in the evening. They could certainly medicate themselves for some more. And Bren certainly appreciated Kris's words, though for a moment he still returned to his paranoia. It was still like he felt guilt for staying too much functional afterward, as if that was the sign that Luna had not meant much to him after all.

Fuck. It was perverse how one's own mind could torment you, twisting reality even worse.

Starting the second beer now, Bren thought to the beginning of the training, running late and almost colliding with Kris, Vadim's flamethrower accident, the wheel collision with Juko. Those felt like an eternity ago. How innocent things had been then!

Bren observed from somewhat far away as Juko turned to Kris. She was quickly becoming rather drunk.

"Hey. The veteran of Alterra. Am I correct to assume that you volunteering has something to do with the officer that interviewed you?"

Kris rolled his eyes. "You can assume what you want."

"Then we're going to assume yes," Vadim said.

To be honest Bren did not care whether Kris would be successful in his conquest, or suffer consequences, whatever they were. Unless it would actually be him getting the boot, which would suck, since they needed all the talent they could get, and he was a natural-born Turrican.

Bren himself could not imagine getting involved with anyone now. Until the machine threat would be truly and finally over, if it even would ever be. Too much potential for more heartbreak otherwise. It was enough that they had the four of them, flying through the gates of Hell together.

* * *

The largest hangar bay of Starport was full of activity now, looking almost like an insect hive with all of the people and maintenance vehicles moving about. It was also restricted from civilians now; UPFF had taken over.

The starship Avalon 1 stood under the almost painfully bright overhead halogen lights, getting loaded with the cargo for the mission.

Rayna had been going over her role in the mission. To control the probes going ahead of them, to communicate with the other Intelligence units, everything to reduce the risk of going in blind to the possible minimum.

Avalon 1 would be under Ardon C. Striker's command. It would likely be his last mission. Rayna was just a bit unsure, due to the Colonel's age. But still, it was good to have someone she regarded as a kindred spirit and a strong anti-bullshit shield at the helm.

Rayna was also glad Colonel Hess would be nowhere near, except potentially as a nagging voice on the comms system.

A orange-painted maintenance vehicle passed dangerously close to Rayna as she walked closer to the ship. As it was gone, she noticed three Turrican-suited soldiers congregated at a large metal munitions crate, their helmets off.

One of them she recognized. Kris. The other two both had much more hair, one purple and one a long unkempt blonde mop, plus beard. Rayna was almost amused, in the militaries of the old it would have been severely out of question.

She turned her walk toward the group.

"Captain," Kris spoke. "Checking out the Turricans?"

Rayna was just a bit lost for words. "I try to know as much of the crew as possible, before we hit space. And you – checking out the weapons crate?"

That final part was not necessarily an acceptable exchange between superior and inferior officers according to the UPFF code. But since she knew Kris, and the two other Turricans did not look uptight either, it was all right.

"Anatoli," the long-mop guy said.

"Bren," the purple-haired man said last.

"I suppose you remember me. I showed you the machine-craft footage at the kickoff, and here we are," Rayna said.

Both of them nodded.

"We trust you to keep us up to speed with the brainy stuff. Meanwhile, we'll supply the firepower," Anatoli said.

Rayna could have interpreted this as some sort of dig. As Intelligence had not been exactly successful in predicting the Starport attack. But possibly it was not in a bad spirit. The mission could get long. It would not be a good idea to hold grudges or have bad blood out there in space.

So she thought to just be honest.

"To tell the truth, we've had challenges. We can't rule out the enemy having the ability to hack into our systems, like the probes. It was possible that they were closer to us than we thought, all this time."

"Almost like the Alterra master lock opening itself?" Kris inquired. "Did you find out anything more from that?"

"Unfortunately, no. No time as the Starport situation came so suddenly. But for the purpose of this mission, feel free to take the most paranoid mindset you wish, if it helps you stay alert."

"Will do," Kris said.

Somehow Rayna thought her words had come out wrong. But she did not like to be reminded of one more assignment she had taken on, and which had then fallen to the wayside. She even caught the purple-hair guy, Bren, staring at her in a bit odd way, and stared right back.

"No offense meant. We're ... facing a seriously unknown situation, and that's refreshing honesty," he said, with just a bit of difficulty getting the words out.

* * *

Bren, Kris and Anatoli helped load the weapons crates onto a miniature flatbed transport vehicle, which would ferry them in turn to the Avalon 1's huge belly. Strictly speaking it was a misuse of the Turrican suits' capability, and there would be hell to pay if the suit broke while doing that, but it was interesting to note how the exoskeleton shielded one from practically all physical strain.

Bren thought of the Intelligence officer. To confess that the all-powerful Intelligence division with their electric eyes in the space was not that much up to speed, took strength. If they were headed for potential oblivion and doom, better to do that in a no-bullshit company. And if Kris had her in his sights, then godspeed to him. He could have made a much worse choice.

Just for a moment Bren let something potentially ill-advised invade his thoughts. The officer had looked a bit defeated, too, when being so honest. And in some another universe Bren could have wanted to hug her and tell that it was OK. Which would likely have been completely uncalled for.

But in this universe, Bren would keep his distance. He would not go against Kris. No unnecessary complications. Especially so soon after his own tragedy. He would keep this strictly professional. There was a war to be fought, until victory or death.

It remained to be seen how the Turrican squads would be divided on the actual mission. So far Kris's right hand man was pleasant to work with, being rather relaxed. He could have well fit as the fifth member of their band.

Of the instructors, Damon would be climbing aboard the Avalon 1 to command the Turrican troops, while Achim would stay at the Academy.

Bren guessed the likely consequence of failure, if the starship was not to return: there would not be another mission. UPFF's image would tarnish too much, if they were to send yet another starship and its crew to death in the unknown. Then mankind would be locked in a defensive battle, a siege, to the bitter end.

Bren lifted yet another crate to the flatbed, and got an insight that only the repetitive mechanical labor could produce: he did in fact not need to worry at all. Because in case of failure, he would also be dead.

Yes. No worries. Just lock and load the Turrican weapon systems, and full speed ahead with the Avalon 1. It was almost like being drunk. Bren knew he was being irresponsible.

* * *

The Avalon 1 mission crew was gathered into the Academy's largest briefing room, situated on the top floor and overlooking the Starport, the artificial sky simulating a pleasant-looking red sunrise. It was 0700 hours, and this was the final briefing. The launch would be before noon.

Bren had not slept much. The flow of adrenaline was near constant. Hopefully it would get better once they were actually in flight. Otherwise he would soon be in no fighting condition.

The commanding officer, the white-haired Colonel Ardon C. Striker, was addressing the crew from the podium. Colonel Trench was standing next to him.

"Crew of the Avalon 1, officers and volunteers! I do not wish to speak in an overt or pompous manner, yet the importance of this mission can not be overstated. We're going after the machines, using the waypoint data one of their disabled craft provided us. Like your superiors have no doubt already told, this is a mission filled with risk. Yet we have little choice. Just yesterday, there was an attack on Starport Five. They suffered a catastrophic artificial sky decompression, and there was a partial evacuation. We have reason to believe these attacks are only going to accelerate, unless we strike back. And that's just what we're going to do – to first learn exactly where they come from, and what are their numbers, their strengths and weaknesses. If possible, we will use the Avalon 1 as a strike platform already. But we are not going to sacrifice ourselves needlessly. If the enemy is too great in numbers, we will only observe, and return once we can learn no more."

Trench took the podium next, clearing his throat audibly through the PA system.

"This mission is also the one where the Turrican fighting suits will be put to their first true test. Much credit goes to our trainee volunteers who have agreed to put their lives on the line to complete the final phase of their training on board the Avalon 1, taking part in this operation. There will be no ranking list. Everyone who survives the mission, will complete the training as a fully qualified Turrican operator."

Ardon resumed for the very brief final part.

"So. The whole of the UPFF is counting on us. Let's not let them down. And let's try to come back alive. You're dismissed – liftoff will be at 1100 hours."

* * *

The liftoff of Avalon 1 was unremarkable, Bren thought. The hum of the engines increased just a bit, and the large starship began to glide smoothly outside the Starport gates, into the vast infinity of space.

As soon as they were outside, the pilot opened up with the engines properly, and now Bren thought the acceleration was finally in proportion to the importance of the mission, being almost thrown against the seat. This was how it should be done; it was almost like the pilot was gunning Katakis engines instead of those of a huge starship.

"Into the unknown," Anatoli spoke with mock seriousness.

Bren was sitting next to him and Kris in the crew quarters room that was now reserved for the Turrican trainees. If Bren was honest, he would have preferred the company of their band of four, but Vadim and Juko were somewhere else on the ship, along with the rest of the enlisted personnel. Likely on technical duties.

"That's actually a Mercyful Fate album. Hard as shit," Anatoli explained.

Bren had only a faint memory that this was some Earth-era artist too. What was out there now Bren did not even bother following; it mostly was completely synthetic, and he thought, completely unremarkable. The artists were also spread all over the UPFF systems; coordinating tours would prove difficult, and mostly only the biggest of them could afford that in the first place. Well, in the era of the Link, physical presence was not that essential. And now, with the machine threat ongoing, most travel except the absolutely necessary would be put on hold.

The ship shook a bit in mid-acceleration, and Bren was caught against the seatbelt.

"Hard in what way?" he asked.

"Like, horror and evil. Guy singing in a falsetto. Very heavy, but I don't mean just musically. Rather, the atmosphere. If you like that kind of stuff at all, you should check it out. Fuck, we've likely got several weeks before we're going to see action. If I listen to their entire discography, I'll be better prepared for death. Either that of the enemies, or mine."

It was good to get to know Anatoli better. He could have a screw or two loose. Maybe that would translate into better combat performance, Bren thought in a somewhat detached manner.

"Thanks. Will keep it in mind. I like some old stuff too. Like Gamma Ray."

This was somewhat of a scary confession to make, because anything but the hardest stuff could be interpreted as uncool.

"Hm. That's not the worst. At least when they're not trying to be Queen, or doing that blatant copying they always do."

That was not the worst outcome Bren could have expected. But it was still a sign to not talk excessively of his favorites. Rather, keep it focused on matters of war. That was safest.


	7. World 3-1

**World 3-1**

The steady hum of the Avalon 1's FTL drives filtered through to Bren's sleep, manifesting almost as an instrument playing a droning, low, depressive melody.

In his dream, Bren flew a Katakis fighter on an illegal mission. He was completely cut off from UPFF's communications and supply lines. If his fuel ran out, he would drift in the space forever.

He knew it was the same dream Luna had dreamed. He was to reach a distant planet, one made completely of metal, to find a black monolith sarcophagus. Bren was not completely sure of what would be inside, yet the mission felt extremely critical and distressing.

Reaching the planet at last, Bren landed the Katakis roughly, then hopped out onto the metal surface in his Turrican suit. All possible warning signs of hostile environment lit up on his visor display. No atmosphere, extreme cold, extreme radiation. Bren almost imagined the radiation as another oppressive instrument playing in his head, though the Turrican suit did not emit a traditional Geiger counter sound.

The Turrican boots made rough clanking noises as he walked in the blackness, sure he was lost. He would never find the sarcophagus in the middle of nowhere.

Yet, sometimes dreams would come true.

Or potentially, nightmares.

Bren thought he could discern a faint upright shape far in the distance. He turned toward it, accelerating to a maximum velocity sprint. The Turrican suit power level was already dropping: at zero, it would no longer protect him.

Now he cursed himself: why had he parked the Katakis so far away? That was beyond stupid.

The monolith-shape grew larger, and finally Bren was in front of it, the power level at half now. Maybe just enough to make it back, if he got the thing open.

Bren inspected the smooth surface of the monolith-sarcophagus. There appeared to be no opening mechanism.

Would he have to shoot it open? The Turrican suit firepower would almost certainly manage that. But again, that would prove fatal to the occupant. If there was someone inside at all.

Bren questioned the whole logic of this quest.

He would just have to haul the whole monolith back inside the Katakis, then inspect it. But before he could even try if that was possible, the monolith began to rumble, and its front lid began to slide down to a slot in the ground.

Bren almost froze in horror as several small mechanical spiders poured out. He took a step back, the Turrican rifle in his hand. But they were scurrying away so fast that he did not have time to take aim. His reactions felt unnaturally slow.

In a few seconds, they were gone. Good riddance.

Now all that remained inside the sarcophagus was a small, disfigured robot skeleton. Was that what they had reduced Luna to? Was it her at all?

In any case, whoever had erected this monument, and every last of the machines, needed to burn. But despite his anger, Bren felt abject, almost cosmic horror: he felt suddenly very small and very alone on this metal planet, surrounded by the boundless black space.

Bren woke up in his bunk bed on the Avalon 1.

Only a dream.

He took inventory of his actual reality. Yes, Luna was gone, but not in that way. Shot through the head instead. But the end result was still the same. Gone. Bren thought he felt just as empty as the space they were traveling through.

* * *

At her station on the Avalon 1, Rayna was checking the status of the scout probes traveling ahead of their path. The small spherical craft were equipped with FTL drives that could maintain speed just like the Avalon, but due to their size their fuel supply was limited, so the probes would need to be periodically taken in for refueling and maintenance.

The estimated distance to the furthest point stored on the machine craft's flight computer was still almost a two weeks worth of travel. Well, it could have been worse. It could have been months.

So far, there was nothing remarkable on the logs. Just emptiness ahead. The true skill of an Intelligence officer would be in staying alert through total uninteresting dreariness and boredom, so that they would not be caught unaware when the shit suddenly hit the fan. Like it always did.

Finally satisfied that the probes would continue on their assigned route without an incident, Rayna left for the ship's mess hall for a primitive meal. Like in their offices back at the Starport Academy, there were dispensers at the crew stations, but eating in the hall provided an opportunity to feel a little less isolated.

Passing several crew members, she walked through the ship's featureless gray steel corridors, which she did not know fully yet. That was a bit of a mortal sin. But she knew the fastest routes to the escape pods, to the armory, and to the bridge. That was enough for now.

Just before the mess hall, she bumped into Kris. Was it a coincidence? Or had he been following her to know she would likely turn up here at this time? Though Kris had his own duties, so it was unlikely he would have too much time on his hands.

But since she had spent the last three hours in the solitude of the probe control station, she decided to not oppose this encounter.

"Hey. How's the space scanning going?" Kris asked.

"Empty enough. Going to eat something."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Be my guest."

They walked inside the hall. Rayna considered a bit. Potentially this would go two ways. Either a harmless waste of time. Or some sort of interaction that would be completely unsuitable between a Captain and a Lieutenant. Rayna thought it had been building up, in her imagination at least. She did not find the company of Kris unpleasant. But it would certainly have been easier without the Link always on, either a computer or a human potentially always monitoring. Of course it was a way to ensure UPFF personnel would be on their best behavior, but sometimes Rayna wished for an override. An off switch.

Kris's duties were apparently over for the day, as he ordered a beer. Rayna went for a semi-synthetic beef, and a soda.

For a brief time there was just silence, as Rayna attacked the beef, and Kris submerged in his beer.

"That's how you unwind?" Rayna asked.

"Well, not really. There's no especial need to."

"You mean, the training is not hard enough?"

"There's not much to do yet. Like you said, the space's empty so far. I'm actually pleased they're not running us through stupid drills just for the sake for it. We're logging hours in the simulators, but those are actually useful exercises. Guess we'll see real action soon enough. But now I've got to ask, what you'd do to unwind?"

The question caught Rayna a bit off balance. Then she just thought, to hell with it.

"Well, I could drink a beer too. Or Russian vodka. Though nowadays there's no risk of going blind, as it's all synthetic anyway. To get the authentic experience you'd order methanol directly from the factory. But that would be logged, and you'd get in trouble. But anyway, then I'd go all nostalgic of all the legendary – in a bad way – Intelligence operations, and think of how they could have been done better, and who should have been reprimanded or court-martialed."

To tell the truth, she could do other things too, like watch pointless TV shows from centuries back, read, or even brush up on her knowledge of the UPFF network protocols and systems, but she was not going to tell Kris that yet.

Kris laughed a little to her choice of drink. "The same stuff that Anatoli swears by. And I do that too sometimes, go back in time to the bughunts or other shit operations. Not that they bother me any more. It's a bit like it happened to someone else. In another time."

Kris paused for a moment, looking Rayna in the eyes in just a bit unsettling way.

"After the Alterra job, it was a fork in the road for me. In a serious way. Either I'd let it destroy me, that I'd sink into the bottle uncontrollably, or I'd push through. Because I'm still here, I suppose I ended up on that latter fork."

Rayna needed to think a bit of how to respond. If she had been drinking a beer too, it could have come a bit easier. Of course, she had read about this before the interview, even the classified reports. But discussing it live was still different. She wanted to express support, but in a natural way. Spending so much time with the Intelligence matters, that was easier said than done.

"Yeah. You're a Turrican now. How you burst into the armory, that should settle it too. Very professional. Kurt – the guy who got the machine embedded in his chest – lives on. Thanks to your quick acting."

That was possibly a bit too – flattering? Compared to what Rayna had intended. But at least not overly cold.

"Thanks. Try to do my best."

"Yeah. I try too. So that we don't get jumped by those insects, but that we'd have the upper hand, and be in control. Know yourself. Know your enemy."

That sudden quote was almost like Rayna was drunk already, without consuming anything.

"Sun Tzu. The Art of War. The quote may not be exact," she added.

"Fits into Turrican warfare too. Know the suit's capabilities, and how you operate it. Know what the enemy's capable of. Then there will be no surprises, and you have the best chance of living to fight the next day," Kris said.

Rayna knew the Art of War could be used on that level too, on a soldier's own performance in combat. But somehow this made her think –

She was only coordinating actions of others, or that of hardware, while Kris was in there when the metal or energy blasts actually met the meat. That would always be the divide between them, even ignoring rank.

She made to collect her tray and leave.

"Hey. It was nice talking to you. I think I'm going back to my station now. To check out the probe status. Though I bet there's nothing. Just more empty space."

"So, until next time?"

"Something like that."

As Rayna walked the Avalon 1 corridors again, she thought that the conversation had been nothing unsuitable. So there was yet room to take it in that direction.

Rayna shook her head. Nothing good would likely result. But then, so what? They were on a mission deep into space, deep into enemy territory. Survival was not guaranteed. And she could not deny that sometimes the Intelligence work left her lonely.

* * *

Within the bowels of Avalon 1, Bren was submerged in a different reality again.

It was another simulator run, wiping out hordes of the machines, both the large insect-craft and the small bugs that jumped out from within. Bren understood that the scenario had been hastily put together based on the Starport attack. It served its purpose good enough.

But Bren thought he was somewhat out of sync. With the Turrican suit. With himself. He had to get a grip. The good thing that Kris and Anatoli were so elite, they practically would do Bren's part too. But Bren did not want it to go that way.

He wanted to become a Turrican properly, on his own merits.

Not just being along for the ride.

He selected the Multiple on maximum power level, and unleashed full auto fire, trying to control the aim precisely. Several of the small bugs were hit, but more were still coming at him. He transformed to wheel form and laid down a trail of mines, which exploded a few seconds later, taking down many more.

But one of the bugs latched on him as he exited the wheel form, draining the shield power for a full critical second, until Kris swept with the flamethrower somewhat hazardously, burning it down.

"Thanks, mate!"

Though Bren aimed his voice to sound positive, inside his mind was angry. It should not have been like this. He should have handled these bugs – these low-level enemies – on his own, and without losing any of the shield power. Fuck.

* * *

Just when things appeared to be settling into a routine, too boring for their own good, Rayna got news of an unexpected malfunction.

One of the probes was decelerating, its FTL fuel seemingly depleted already. She climbed aboard the small maintenance vehicle, designation R-9. Strictly speaking she would not have needed to be there, as the technicians could just handle it on their own, but that way she would get first-hand knowledge of the malfunction.

Kris and Anatoli were a two-man Turrican protection detail for the technicians and Rayna. That would have to be enough. The whole procedure was simple and relatively devoid of risk, for instance there would not be a need for a space-walk.

Instead, they would just fly up to the probe, connect the data cables, and the necessary hoses. Then they would either know the reason, or not. In the worst case the probe would be left to sit there. Not that big of a loss. They still had spares.

The Avalon 1 would cruise along on a reduced speed during the maintenance run, so that the R-9 could catch up easily enough. That was a potential risk, in case the machines were out there, lying in wait. But the forward scans from the remaining probes had all turned up empty.

On a mission like this one had to be somewhat paranoid, but no matter how many years of experience you had, it could wear you down eventually, Rayna thought.

She also knew the mission was an excuse to spend time in the company of Kris again, to see how things would develop. She had smiled a little at him for no reason, and he had smiled back. Harmless fun, and no-one had noticed.

* * *

The shrill alarm overwhelmed Bren's senses. This was how it always happened. First there was boredom and you were preoccupied with things that felt completely irrelevant in the retrospect, like whether your last simulator run had been good enough, or if you would have another nightmare this night.

And suddenly, shit hit the fan with maximum force and you were running, your heart pounding near maximum rate, trying to get yourself armed before the enemies would be shooting you in the face.

A huge battlecruiser had decloaked and materialized next to the Avalon 1. The airlock had been breached, and boarding was imminent.

The burning shame and injustice was that there would be no time to put on the Turrican suits, and there would not be enough of them for all of the crew. And all of them were not trained in any case. So instead they would do this the traditional way, with just the helmets and vests and small arms, hoping they would be enough.

All of the starship's defense systems had failed, and the main weapons were down. How was it possible? Bren thought this echoed eerily the UPFF's earlier failures. Alterra. The Starport attack.

Why? They seriously needed to do better than this. But now was no time to wonder why. Either they would survive this or not, and if they did, then there would be time to think again.

Bren reached the armory, which was already half full with anxious crew members, frantically putting their battle gear on. The Turrican suits in their cradles stood in the back, inviting. But powering them up to full battle capacity would take minutes they did not have. Damn. That tech needed serious improvement too.

"They're half-mutant-half-machine shitheads! But we will cut them down, the best we can," Ardon C. Striker shouted, tossing armor and guns to those still without.

Bren got the projectile- and phaser-proof vest on, checked his pistol (he had tried out the rifle variant on the ship's range, and found its accuracy to be severely lacking), and stuffed his pockets full of spare power cells.

Then he was out of the armory, sprinting down the corridor in a group of eight, unknown to Bren except for Captain Damon Thorne, who had taken lead. The enemies were pouring into the storage halls next to the airlock, and if they could be stopped there, it would be easier than hunting them down through all the ship's corridors and multiple floors.

* * *

Ahead, the view from the front windows of the R-9 was just empty space; the probe was parked on the port side. Everything was by the book so far. But now something else had caught the technicians' attention.

"They're in trouble," Tech Sergeant Jax Tracker shouted from the radio console. "The Avalon 1 is under attack!"

Rayna let the thought sink in.

A coldness began to envelope her mind, and the excuse for joining this trip was quickly pushed aside. Somehow their precautions had failed again. One more incident to the growing list.

Then she began to think more practically. If the Avalon would be disabled or even destroyed, they would be stranded here inside the R-9. It would not have enough fuel to get back to the Starport. With luck there would be another UPFF vessel close enough to rescue them, but in the worst case, survival was not guaranteed, even without the machines coming at them. Just the gradual depletion of power and life support, until they would fall asleep – and never wake.

Not a pleasant thought. So Rayna directed her thoughts back to the Avalon 1. Sitting here in the middle of space, with the probe connected, they could do little to help its crew.

Damn. This feeling of hopelessness was something Rayna had rarely encountered in such immediate sense. Of course like most of Intelligence people, she had been on the other end of communications when shit had hit the fan for some godforsaken crew on the other side of the galaxy, but though it was real lives in both cases, this hit home much harder.

"Could we hit maximum speed to get back at them?" Kris asked.

"We'd have enough fuel, but no offense, we couldn't do much," Jax said. "Even with two of you Turricans aboard. This bathtub doesn't have much in the way of weaponry."

"So we just sit here?" Anatoli aka Marauder asked.

"If we set the engines on about 70 percent, we could reach them in roughly optimum time, but still not burn unnecessary fuel. Then we'll see what the situation is. If it's just a large floating coffin by that point. Or blown to nothingness," Jax said somberly.

"Sounds like a plan," Kris said.

Jax lumbered back into the cockpit of the small maintenance craft. The close-shaved head combined with his huge frame made him look somewhat savage, certainly a man to be feared if you were on his bad side.

He threw a few switches and the hoses disconnected, the green lights indicating successful probe connection turning to red one by one. Rayna imagined a hiss of pressurized air, but of course in the space there was just silence.

"We'll leave this sphere here?" the other technician, Niko "Rock" Flynn, asked. He too was almost as large in stature as Jax.

"That's fine," Rayna replied.

For a moment, she thought of the spare drones aboard the Avalon 1. Possibly, they all would be gone up in flames the time they got back to the large ship. Not a big loss. They could always be replaced, unlike the lives of the crew.

The R-9 began to turn, and Rayna sat next to Kris on the rear bay bench.

"Another surprise attack. How I'm not surprised?" Kris said, irritation in his voice.

Again, Rayna considered whether this was casting doubt on all of the Intelligence. Including her. But she knew she should not get needlessly defensive, but rather share the anger. The probes had done their scanning just fine, just according to UPFF doctrine, but somehow the attack had still happened using some unknown superior technology –

Or sabotage?

"Something is certainly off here," Rayna replied. "It can't be a coincidence anymore."

Kris's voice grew more strained.

"It's a hell of a time to find out, in the middle of nowhere. Ah, fuck. I don't mean to be angry at you in specific."

Rayna shook her head. "It's OK. I'm a bit on the edge too. I guess all of us are."

Somewhat subconsciously Rayna noticed to have inched closer to Kris, so that she was touching his Turrican suit. It was too late to take that back now. At least she had not taken his hand or something.

Kris laughed bit and spoke in a low voice, almost whispering. "Must remember to get angry more often, so I get you to calm me down."

Rayna noticed Anatoli was watching them from under his eyebrows.

"Your top dog is watching us."

"Let him. He's not jealous, if that's what you're afraid."

Rayna thought that Kris was now in his element, and it was a game in which she was likely no match for him. It was also being unprofessional, so she had better stop right now. Especially considering the gravity of the situation on the Avalon 1.

* * *

The battle in the corridors and halls of the Avalon 1 was chaotic to the extreme. The crew fired their phasers to the best of their ability, against the invading horde. Their appearance was gruesome, and it was hard to tell whether the porous skin or the hulking metal skeleton was the core, the actual being.

Bren allowed himself a few seconds to think of their origin. Had the machine-insects created these monstrosities from scratch? Or had they lifted them from somewhere? Like, from the UPFF bio-engineering experiments? Alterra?

Their weapons were both technologically advanced, like red rapid-fire lasers that were smaller versions of those on the machine-craft, pulse grenades and proximity bombs, while others were utterly barbarical, like robotic-action meathooks or steel spikes held on a chain, possibly launched by pressurized air.

Encountering the destructive power of all of them, the crew of the Avalon 1 fell in rapid numbers.

Bren had caught a glimpse of Vadim quickly, in another group of defenders. There had not been time to exchange words. Juko was somewhere on the ship too. Bren thought she could be laying down clever traps for the intruders, or taking control of some heavy machinery to crush them like insects.

Don't get your hopes up, Bren reminded himself.

Almost right on cue of that thought, Bren saw Damon take a meathook in the head, right through the helmet visor, and heard the nasty crunch of breaking skull-bone.

As expected, the Captain did not get up after that. The sounds that followed indicated he was possibly being eaten; Bren saw only a glimpse of it but was then forced on the run into an adjacent hallway.

One power cell ran out, and Bren slammed the next in, mindful of the overheat meter on the pistol. If you fired rapidly enough, changed magazines and then resumed, you could cause a prolonged cool-down designed to protect the weapon, but it left you utterly defenseless for the time.

Bren aimed down the sights and managed to headshot one of the mutants, who was advancing down the corridor in a pack of three. Half of the head blew, yet still the mutant did not cease firing. Bren followed by trying to shoot the laser rifle out of the mutant's hand, but it was already moving sideways in an eerie rapid pace, out of Bren's sight, and crossfire from the others in the pack forced Bren to retreat and duck to the safety of a heavy bulkhead door.

In surprise, he nearly bumped to Vadim, who was holding a burned-looking rifle.

"Overloaded this piece of shit. Now it doesn't fire at all! Think I'm going to try to make it down to the maintenance level. Just to hole up in an air duct or something. Hope they don't look everywhere. Or vent the air away. Or pump it full of toxins."

It sounded like deserting. But Bren was not going to blame him now.

* * *

Finally Bren understood that the battle was going down the drain, that there was potentially no way to survive. Retreating into another hall where another just as chaotic battle raged, Bren saw Ardon be cut down by simultaneous laser fire from two of the mutants, and the situation felt profoundly hopeless.

A chunk of steel structure fell from the ceiling, and Bren saw his opening. He dived to seemingly avoid it, estimating the place where he would need to be. He misjudged just slightly, and winced as the chunk hit his side extremely painfully. Yet he was still breathing, and there was not the kind of pain that would indicate something was broken.

But the point was to give the impression, and he played dead to the best of his ability. It was somewhat helped by the large piece obscuring most of his body. A few of the crew still fired their phasers, then just gurgles of pain followed.

Then utter silence. Bren dared not to breathe.

It could have been an utter impossibility, but somehow Bren thought the silence got even deeper. It was as if none of the mutants dared to breathe either.

Next Bren heard the slow clanking of extremely heavy steel boots entering the hall. He dared to turn his head just a fraction of an inch, and saw a purple-armored at least five-meter tall robot, wearing a sinister dark blue cape, striding with absolute authority into the hall. The armor had long, evil shoulder spikes, that could not serve any other purpose but to evoke fear.

This had to be the leader of the mutant horde.

It walked toward Bren, actually moving the chunk of structure and exposing him.

Now if ever Bren needed to keep completely still. He kept his eyes open, gazing upward and into nowhere. If he blinked, it would be curtains.

The robot's heavy boot came to rest on Bren's chest, digging in painfully, but not causing actual damage yet.

One of the mutants, apparently of higher rank too, addressed the robot in a garbled, inhuman voice.

"Machine. There's nothing but corpses left."

Bren sensed the robot tensing, applying more pressure. So its name was Machine. That was good to know, if for nothing else than to focus his anger and need for revenge. If he just lived through this.

"Be away with you," the Machine commanded the mutants. "Back to the battle cruiser."

The heavy boot rested on Bren's chest for some more seconds. Then the pressure lifted off. Bren almost sighed of relief, but knew he needed to remain deathly still until he was completely alone.

"Excellent," the Machine spoke to itself, as the mutants were leaving. "The crew of Avalon 1 are no more."

It turned to leave too, into the hallway and toward the exit airlock. Bren let his breath out at last. Now it was time to plan his next step.

Suddenly the lights went out.

For a few seconds there appeared to be utter blackness, until Bren's eyes adjusted to the much weaker emergency lighting.

The main power was down. He understood this was the enemies' parting gift. The Machine's proclamation had to be understood in a future tense. If someone was still alive – like Vadim, who could have been hiding – the emergency life support would not last long. Certainly not even a full 24 hours.

Depending on the extent of the sabotage, the repair droids could still help. There were automated procedures and manuals Bren could consult. If the droids had been destroyed too ... then things would get difficult.

Also, it was better to assume danger was still lurking. That some enemies had remained onboard, defying the Machine. Most importantly, Bren needed to get properly geared up. No more fighting under-powered.

Therefore, the armory.

And a Turrican suit.


	8. World 3-2

**World 3-2**

The Avalon 1's last known position was an hour's worth of FTL burn away now. There had been no further communications, and Rayna was growing anxious. The stars that seemed to zoom by rapidly did little to calm her down, if anything, they only served to feed back into a spiral of over-excitation in her head.

She and Kris had not spoken now. There was not much to speak, until they would reach the starship.

"Hey. I'm getting some readings," Jax alerted them.

"From Avalon?" Rayna asked.

"No. I don't think it's Avalon yet. But –"

Rayna looked at the radar display on the cockpit, and saw it was showing a large, somewhat amorphous shape. That certainly was not Avalon 1.

But what was it then?

Then, she looked at the view ahead, and saw the stars being blotted out. Slightly to their right, something huge was indeed lumbering in the space.

Rayna could only think of one thing now. A large cruiser of machine origin. It had to possess huge firepower and transport capability, like their flagship Valhalla.

Fuck it ... if that thing had attacked Avalon 1, it was likely only floating scrap metal now. There were the escape pods, but there would likely not be enough time for everyone to get in, with that kind of enemy unloading all of its power, and possibly a boarding party.

Of course, the Avalon 1 was supposed to have formidable defense mechanisms. But even the outside auto-turrets were not likely to even scratch such a huge ship. And judging from the complete radio silence … the battle was likely to not have gone well.

The star-blotting blackness grew.

Suddenly alarms started to blare inside the R-9, red lights flashing on the cockpit.

"I'm not in full control of the thrust vector! FTL drive output dropping rapidly. I think – it's fucking with us!" Jax shouted. He threw several switches, grappling with the control stick and the main thrust lever, but it appeared to be doing little.

"Firing retro rockets! Have to try to get out in the old-fashioned way!"

Anatoli looked up. "Raise the demons in the old fashion," he muttered, almost like singing a melody.

"Shut up," Kris snapped. "This is serious."

Rayna was holding her breath. The retro rockets appeared to be doing little to alter the R-9's trajectory. The black shape of the enemy vessel was now obscuring almost all of their view. Either it was going to ram them, or suck them in.

Rayna thought she would prefer the first option. Instant decompression and death in a few seconds. If they were captured … there was no telling to what degree of cruelty they would be subjected in the hands of the machines. Well, there would be two Turricans to oppose them, and naturally she and the technicians would fight back too, but thinking realistically, the odds were bad in the extreme.

* * *

The Turrican suit activation sequence was near completion. Inside the helmet, Bren watched the power level meter rise, almost a hundred percent now. His plan of action was clear for now. Wearing the suit, he would check the repair procedures. And search for Vadim and Juko. The suit would give him much more time even after the emergency power ran out, taking life support with it.

As a last resort, he would blast away in a Katakis. No suicide assault and chasing the attacker, but to start a long, lonely journey home. The range would certainly not be enough to reach any of the Starports or colonies, so he would need to call for assistance.

Only now Bren remembered the probe maintenance mission. He almost cursed for having forgotten. Kris, Anatoli and Rayna, the Intelligence officer, were onboard the R-9 along with the technicians. They would eventually get back here. Well, it was another limited-range small ship. It would not make much difference, but of course having alive company would be better.

The power meter reached full.

Then the suit shut down, leaving a faint electric descending whine.

Bren found himself in the middle of blackness.

Not again.

"God damn!" he cursed at the top of his lungs, the voice hurting his own ears.

He had already imagined raising his left steel fist defiantly in the air, shouting "Revenge!" but that was not going to happen now.

Instead, he would have to troubleshoot the suit. If he even could. The diagnostics procedures were complex, and to do them under the pressure of a dwindling life support would not make them any easier.

* * *

Bren did not curse for a second time. He was not even sure of how much time passed. He had just sunk into his thoughts, momentarily too defeated to spring into action.

Until he became aware of a – faint, repeating voice?

He tried to listen. It was insane, but it sounded like the voice was calling his name. He hit the mechanical release switch for the helmet, and shook his purple hair loose, just like after an exercise.

"Bren! It's me, Juko! I'm inside this service duct. Could you open it? I'd rather not crawl all the way back to the maintenance station! I've been doing some digging, and there's some serious shit going on!"

Bren turned to look and saw the grate to his left. He quickly walked to it and turned its handle to get it open. Juko climbed out, her uniform dirtied. But otherwise she appeared unharmed.

"Thanks," she exclaimed.

"Were you already in the ducts when the enemies hit?" Bren asked. "Didn't see you for a long time."

"Yeah. Before the alarms went off, I already saw the power to the defense systems dropping. The ducts were the fastest way to the nearest station where I could do something. But once there, I understood there was data corruption on the Avalon's computers. A virus, or worm, whatever you call it. The enemies didn't shut down the main power. But it did."

"So … did the machines send it to us remotely, or –"

Before Bren could even finish the sentence, he felt profoundly cold.

"I think it was in there already when we left Starport, and activated on a timer," Juko answered.

It took a second or two to sink in fully. Coming from Juko, it was a much stronger confirmation than his own suspicion.

And suddenly Bren's mind flashed with rage. Much stronger than the rage from meeting the creature-machine hybrids and their barbaric weapons, or the Machine stomping his chest. He hit the alloy wall of the armory with the Turrican fist. As the suit was unpowered and the exoskeleton's protection was off, it hurt profoundly. But the dent on the wall was satisfying.

A betrayal! By their own!

Some in UPFF had wanted this mission to fail from the start! How could this be happening? Even more than after the failed suit activation, Bren wanted to sink to the ground. This was high treason against humanity itself.

"Those fuckers," Bren growled.

"I know. I was pretty devastated myself," Juko said. "But listen, I think I know how to beat the virus. We just need to do a full power cycle. I sort of rehearsed it with the Turrican cradles. Sorry for that by the way. To be sure, we both need to be in powered suits, for the case I fail, and even the emergency power doesn't come back on."

"Sounds like a plan," Bren said. "The first step at least. So, if I power up the suit again, this time it should work?"

Juko nodded in a rapid motion.

Good then. It was time to get to work.

* * *

It was completely black outside the R-9. The lights on the cockpit cast a faint eerie glow on their faces. From time to time, there was a deep, reverberating metallic sound from the outside.

"Good news and bad news," Jax said. "The air readings appear to be survivable. So that means there's organic ... things somewhat resembling us, aboard this ship."

Rayna thought that the presence of organic enemies was not necessarily good news at all. They could be even more devious and sadistic than just machines.

"And the bad?" Kris asked.

"I believe we ended up inside a giant trash compactor. That sound is the crushing mechanism, which appears to work in a sequence. It's coming closer, which means it's our turn to get crushed soon."

"Exit ship and look for a route out?" Anatoli suggested.

"Good to hear a battle plan and not lyrics," Kris replied. "But have to be careful. We're in deep, and can't do much but to improvise, until we get to some access point and learn the cruiser layout. If there's one. And if we get access. Everyone, arm yourselves. We'll try to draw the enemies' attention. You should also take the breathing gear in case they do something nasty. Like vent the air out."

Rayna zipped open the silver-colored technician's protective suit and began to put on the combat gear. The helmet and vest, though much less effective than the Turrican armor, would at least reduce some of the impact from enemy fire, which could mean the difference between life and death.

To a degree it felt good to have a phaser rifle in her hands again. It was already familiar, and Rayna knew how much it would recoil when fired in auto mode.

She knew the good feeling was illusory. They would be running blind inside a huge enemy-controlled battlecruiser.

As soon as all three were geared up, with air tanks on their backs and combat vests under the suits, Jax hit a switch and the rear door opened. Rayna saw just blackness in that direction too. She hit a button for the helmet's light amplification, and saw the craft was sitting on a huge pile of unspecified debris. It was just green haze with very little contrast, but still better than pure black – the human eye was most sensitive to green.

Kris and Anatoli went out first, the Turrican rifles looking much more imposing in their hands than the relatively puny phaser guns. Rayna, Jax and Niko followed.

Somewhat crudely, Rayna thought the technicians and the Turrican suits would make the largest targets, while she would have it easier to hide behind things. But – if she was on her own, she would certainly get lost and killed quickly. Still much better to stick together.

The metallic sound came again, this time frighteningly loud, and Rayna looked behind to see huge hydraulic arms – they probably had to be those – start pressing against the mound of debris. It made more creaking noises as it shifted, and Rayna almost lost balance.

"Better get out of here fast!" Jax snapped.

They accelerated into a run down the mound. Ahead, Rayna saw the far wall of the compactor hall, but also moving lights, hovering in the air. Possibly automated defense or maintenance droids.

It was going to get ugly soon. From both directions.

She checked that the rifle had full power, and was set in burst mode. For a moment, she switched light amplification off; the lights were a menacing red, closing in fast.

Sudden laser fire erupted from their direction.

"Get into cover!" Kris shouted, and Rayna scrambled forward to a waist-high piece of twisted and mutilated metal. It would do for the moment.

Then Kris and Anatoli opened up with the Turrican firepower against the droid enemies, Anatoli jumping forward to unleash the "powerline" weapon while Kris stayed in cover, and it was almost like the whole compactor hall was being lit up.

Suddenly Rayna understood the light did not come just from the weapons, but also from behind. More enemies from that direction?

She looked backward, and just then a sickening, roasting stench reached her nostrils.

Behind her, huge white tongues of flame sprouted out from holes in the side walls, incinerating the waste. And judging from the stench and the twin, charred, vaguely human-like shapes lying on the ground, also their technicians.

Jax and Niko had not made it far enough in time.

Rayna felt sick to her stomach. Just a few seconds, and she could have been caught in the flames too. Bile in her throat, she forced herself to take aim toward the closest moving lights, after first double-checking that there were no more incinerator holes next to where she was holding position.

She knew their escape had become twice as hard. The only tech expertise to help them now was what they possessed themselves. The two would have been much more adept at deciphering unknown machine terminals or access points.

Laser fire forced her to duck lower and abandon all extraneous thoughts. Right now, only fighting back mattered. In anger, she fired one burst after another.

* * *

Bren and Juko jogged down the Avalon 1 corridors, both in Turrican suits. No enemy contact at all. It was possible they had all obeyed the Machine to the letter, and crawled back aboard the battlecruiser.

The sight of so many corpses felt even more appalling now. Not just dying at the hands of the enemy, but due to the treachery high up in the UPFF. Who could they trust from this point onward? And what would they even do if they got the ship powered up?

"This way to the main power station!" Juko shouted, and they crossed to the hall where a large battle had raged, where Bren had seen Ardon C. Striker fall –

His dead body was still there, just like Bren remembered. The Colonel on his last mission, betrayed by his own. He would have deserved better.

Suddenly Brent thought he saw an impossibility.

Ardon – moved? Not much, but after that long, all muscle impulses should have ceased. It meant – that the Colonel lived? But he had been seriously hit by laser crossfire. Even if he was alive for now, he could not have much life remaining.

"Hey! Ardon is alive! We need to help him first!" Bren shouted back to Juko.

Bren covered the distance quickly and crouched next to Ardon. He was breathing, but his condition was indeed severe, him practically lying in a pool of his own blood. On the positive side, it appeared the laser fire had burned the wounds shut to a degree. And no arteries had been hit. Otherwise he would have been long dead.

But it was a nasty pair of stomach wounds. There had to be internal organ damage. Bren thought the Colonel could have given them directions what to do next, but he was likely going to perish anyway. His condition required medical expertise far beyond of both Bren and Juko –

"The auto-surgeon stations! They can run on emergency power, and if we get full power up, that's even better," Juko breathed. "You get the Colonel there, I'll get the power up! Though, if I fail and all power stays down, then he's going to be history!"

Ardon grinned weakly and gave a thumbs-up sign.

"Exactly what I needed to see. Yes, you can finish this fight," he croaked, then appeared to lapse into unconsciousness.

"You'll finish the fight … too," Bren muttered, barely getting the words out and barely believing them himself, despite Juko's plan. Bren did not exactly trust robotic surgery. Though the success rate was nearly the same as with expert human physicians. And what if they would need – replacement organs?

Bren knew he would know better once Ardon would be in the surgery unit. And after Juko either succeeded, or not. He prepared to lift the Colonel on his shoulder.

"I'll meet you there once I'm done!" Juko said and began to sprint through the rest of the hall, jumping over bodies and fallen debris.

* * *

Silence fell in the trash compactor hall at last. No more red lights. It was mostly Kris and Anatoli who had handled them, though Rayna had gotten a few hits in, especially once the droids got close. It was a curious design, a sphere split in two, whose "mouth" could open. The top was purple and the bottom just gray steel.

The exploding droid had showered her in sparks and metal fragments, which was satisfying in a way, but it had also been much too close for comfort.

"You OK?" Kris asked.

"I'm good. Our technicians, not so much," Rayna replied, shaking her head.

"They had bad luck. Not much we can do. Except to get on the move," Anatoli said.

Rayna had half expected some wisecrack from him, some more lyrics perhaps, but none materialized. It would have been in bad taste anyway.

With the immediate danger over, she thought again of being lost in the bowels of this huge ship. Which could apparently be full of death-traps too. It was probably best to just get going and not think too much.

Had there been an alarm already? At least there was nothing dramatic, no sirens or flashing and rotating lights. But it could also be silent, just instructions transmitted on the battlecruiser's computers, telling every hostile aboard their last known location.

That was another thing best to not dwell on.

Inching forward, they left the huge hall behind at last, emerging into a curving passageway made of black shiny metal. The curve felt somewhat wrong, somewhat disgusting. As if they were traveling along a huge intestine. But for the moment, it appeared empty.

Rayna knew the Turrican suits would give the operator the opportunity to move at excessive speed at excessive lengths of time, while she would be limited by just her human ability. But Kris and Anatoli were taking this into account; they accelerated into a jog down the corridor, making sure that she could keep pace. Going too fast could mean going blind into another trap anyway.

* * *

Ardon was lying on his back in the auto-surgeon unit. Bren had done his part. But he did not have to wait long, as the comms inside the Turrican helmet crackled to life.

"I'm about to hit the reset switch here," Juko said. "I'm not interrupting anything critical there? Ardon's not under the knife yet?"

"No. He's just resting. Still alive. Just do your thing."

Bren could not help trepidation. Like it would be important to stand absolutely still and hold your breath to make sure the procedure had maximum chances of success.

Fuck. He knew that was irrational.

"OK. Hitting it now!" Juko almost shouted.

The emergency lights in the medical room went out. Pitch black again. It also became deathly silent, except for Ardon's slow, strained breathing.

Hold on, Bren thought.

The seconds stretched on, with nothing happening. Juko could have misunderstood … maybe she had only succeeded in making Avalon 1 a giant coffin, and permanently so?

"Juko? Talk to me. What's going on?" Bren had to speak up. Though he was not sure if the Turrican communications would work either, going just from suit to suit on a dead ship, with a lot of those heavy bulkhead walls in between.

No response.

Until full lights on the ceiling and walls came on. Bren thought he would be blinded by the intense whiteness, but he also did not remember being as glad for a long time.

Juko had made it!

Bren looked at the surgical unit touch screen. It read now:

 _Commencing analysis_

 _Please stand by_

Medical scanners suspended on robot arms started moving around, emitting a hum. Bren just stood aside, fairly sure that the machine would do its job far better than he could.

Finally the display changed.

 _Multiple injuries detected_

 _Surgery required_

 _Proceed Yes / No / Details?_

Without thinking too much, Bren pressed the Yes choice. They had wasted enough time. Now Ardon would be in the hands of this … thing. It better work. Otherwise they would be pretty much lost.

"Hold on, Ardon," Bren said, as the humming and whirring intensified.

Another set of arms began moving, with surgical implements attached. Bren hoped the machine would use anaesthesia as necessary. Or if not … he was sure Ardon could take that too. Despite his age he was a soldier to the core, made to endure blood and fire and pain.

Juko's voice came back on the comms, being clearer now with the ship powered up again.

"The virus is cleaned up from the system. Too bad it erased itself permanently, so there isn't anything to analyze. I think its purpose wasn't to cripple the ship for good, but just to allow the attack to happen."

Not a big loss, Bren thought. Right now there was not anyone onboard qualified for a thorough system analysis anyway.

He thought of the Intelligence officer again. Could she have planted the virus, being some sort of mole? But she had seemed honest, even in a self-deprecating way. Unless that was part of her cover role.

It seemed unlikely though. Bren rather wanted to believe she was clean. But there would be a large number of suspects on the UPFF command chain. It could really be anyone.

The question remained though, why? If this was similar to the Starport attack, it seemed almost like offerings to the machine gods. Nothing but senseless sacrifice.

Fuck. And Luna had been sacrificed too. For what? Despite the delight of getting the ship power on, Bren felt the questions and the frustration and the anger gnawing at his soul.

Well, if Ardon would get well, he could offer his insights too.

Somehow, Bren thought that the most straightforward course of action, that would answer all of the questions at once, would be to go after the Machine. And its battlecruiser. It had to have some home base of operations.

Bren flashed back to the opening lecture, almost cursed at himself for not remembering it before.

"They believe it is debris from an artificial planet reconstructing itself."

That would just fit the bill. A machine emperor, a machine army, and an artificial planet.

All that remained was the actual implementation. Easier said than done. It could well end up as a total suicide mission. But Bren felt they were already too far to turn back. Especially, with the UPFF likely being compromised. If they just returned home now, that would likely be the end of it. No second attack with more – or all – of their strength. The attacks would continue, until all of humanity would be extinguished.

If Bren thought in a paranoid enough manner – they could be imprisoned, or even permanently silenced, just for living to tell of the virus in Avalon 1's systems.

It was so insane; a few weeks or even few days ago Bren could never have thought anyone in UPFF to sink to such depths. If the United Planets Freedom Forces were not doing their job, but conspiring against humanity instead in a most deadly manner, there truly was no-one to trust.

Suddenly Bren was alerted by a noise, emerging from the doorway. He turned at maximum speed the suit could allow. A mutant they had overlooked? Bren prepared to unleash the Turrican firepower.

Until he realized it was Vadim, stumbling into the med-bay. He looked to have red burns on his hands, and the uniform was blackened.

"Guys! Glad to see you. But I need … treatment! The ducts got very hot when the ship got full power back!"

Bren let out a laugh. The old gang was almost back together. That only left Kris and the rest of the crew on the maintenance craft. They should be returning shortly too. That was certainly better than just a starship full of corpses. Even with the betrayal within UPFF considered.

Juko was shaking her head, but it appeared to be in humor. "That's what you get for hiding."

"And what were you doing throughout the attack? Are you saying I should have … Bah, I'll just shut up."

Vadim stumbled the rest of the way into a vacant auto-surgeon station, and brough the interface close on its swivel arm to begin the burn injury treatment.

With that settled, Bren thought of the corpses again. They would not go away on their own, and at some point the stench would get unholy. It was a somewhat macabre subject, but inevitable.

"Hey. What about all the bodies?" he asked Juko.

"I could program the maintenance robots to move them into cryo-storage. Don't think we can do much more."

"Thanks. Agreed. Then we just wait for Ardon to get patched up enough, and for the rest to return."

"And then we kick ass. Of the machines. Or of the UPFF traitors. And with everyone in Turrican suits, no matter if they were kicked out of the training or not."

Bren noticed Juko was thinking along extremely similar lines. Though she, too, was leaving out the huge uncertainty and risk involved. It was a hell of a boast, one that could get them killed, but now was not the time to dwell on the negative. Rather, to believe they could actually see it through.

"Precisely, Juko."


	9. World 3-3

_**Author's note: Thanks to M for setting the fanfiction madness into motion! There is a certain borrowed phrase here as a homage!**_

 _ **\- IronForce**_

* * *

 **World 3-3**

Rayna, Kris and Anatoli still advanced through the battlecruiser's corridor maze. It had been quiet so far … disturbingly quiet.

Kris gave a hand sign for stop. Ahead, the hallway opened into what appeared to be a cargo loading area, with large metal boxes moving slowly on conveyors, and walkways suspended high above.

Standing within were huge bipedal guardian robots, equipped with jetpacks so that they could hover in the air. Rayna was not sure how much Turrican firepower one of those would take. Possibly, they could be taken down, but done in the sight of all the other enemies, including box-shaped worker robots and auto-forklifts, plus a few organic / metal hybrid workers moving in between the machinery, would be a sure way to trigger an alarm.

"Better to not be seen by those large ones," Kris said. Through the suit helmet, the low, almost whispering voice was a bit unsettling.

"But we can't stay here either. No telling when some assholes come from behind," Anatoli replied.

Rayna scanned the room, trying to come up with something.

Surely, they could not hop onto the conveyors, but –

There appeared to be some sort of maintenance gutters in the floor, crossing the whole room in a grid pattern. They were high enough that if they reached them unseen, they could crawl forward, through the room, or into any direction they desired. Of course, Rayna could not help them decide which; any of them seemed equally valid to her.

"Hey. That trench. Or whatever you call it," she whispered.

"It's a possibility. Will just be hairy to get into it. Have to make sure no-one is looking," Kris said.

The huge robots patrolled in an apparent regular pattern, utilizing their jetpacks at times to verify that nothing out of order was happening on the walkways either.

One of them just turned its head away, and began its walk toward the center of the room.

"Now!" Kris hissed sharply.

It was just a few meters they needed to cover. Rayna wondered: could the Turrican suit actually move quietly enough? Stumbling on anything now would be catastrophic.

Keeping low, they almost crawled the distance. Kris and Anatoli certainly had to be extremely focused with their movements, but they managed. Finally, they could slip down to the gutter.

Rayna was the last to enter it, and just as she did, the same robot turned its large trapezoidal head back to their direction. She thought their eyes locked for a moment.

It made an unsettling metallic growl, almost like it was speaking.

She had been detected!

Or –

Rayna flattened herself to the bottom of the gutter. The line of sight had been broken. No further growls appeared, and the robot's loud footsteps were going away again.

She let the breath out finally. It had been extreme luck. But now they could crawl out of this room, completely out of sight.

Kris pointed to the left of their original direction.

"That way is the shortest out. Anyone have other ideas?"

Rayna did not have a better idea. Anatoli did nothing to protest either, and so they were on the move.

* * *

The gutter gave way to a cramped crawlspace, leading further into the ship, and angling upward. It was almost devoid of light. Rayna flicked on the helmet's amplified vision again, to make sure it was empty.

Nothing, so far.

"Going up. It could be the way to the ship's control quarters," Kris said.

Rayna did not necessarily think of it as a good idea. It would surely indicate heightened security. They would have to think twice before popping their heads out.

If she thought of her situation honestly, it would be an invitation to insanity. So again, it was better not to think too much. This was certainly not what an Intelligence officer was trained for. Though maybe they should be.

Crawling on their bellies, the journey seemed to last almost for an hour. Though Rayna was sure it was not that long in reality.

Finally there appeared to be light ahead. They came to a grille, behind which there were banks of consoles with lights on, looking both alien and familiar at the same time. Huge windows gave a view of the stars ahead, and a black sphere against them. A planet.

Rayna knew this had to be the battlecruiser's bridge. They had hit the jackpot! Kris had chosen the correct way by blind guesswork.

But the bridge was occupied.

On the sides, there were huge, imposing, horned sentinel robots clad in dark gray metal, brandishing oversized twin rifles bolted right into their arms. And standing at the center console was an even taller figure, a robot wearing a blue cape. Had to be the commander of the ship. Or even of the whole machine force. Even when standing completely still, it appeared to radiate authority; the sentinels on its sides were also standing still, possibly out of reverence.

Rayna was shocked when the caped robot spoke in a low, sinister, distorted voice, in a language she could well understand.

"I know what they are planning. To build a new machine … a new intelligence ... to overthrow me. But they don't understand I've seized control of the core. I have their life-force in my hands."

The sentinels nodded in silence, not responding audibly.

Rayna did not understand what this was about. Surely it could not be about them, humans? They had only recently discovered this machine threat. Unless the UPFF was running some deep-black operation she had no idea of, it had to be referring to the actions of some completely unknown third party.

But it sounded almost comforting, to know someone or something else was opposing the machines too.

"I … also … detect –"

This was when Rayna thought her blood would freeze. The robot-emperor had detected them!

They had crawled too close, unaware of being watched, possibly for some time already. Anything, like their heat signatures or heartbeats could have given them away to the robot sensors.

The caped robot turned around, and the grille in front of them just flew open, A metal glove in its right hand was glowing blue. Gravity manipulation...?

In the very next instant, they were plucked out of the crawlspace into the middle of the room, landing extremely ungracefully at the emperor's feet.

"Intruders. I am the Machine. It's an insult you've managed to come this far. That insult ends now."

The sentinels' dual arm-rifles were all trained on them. Rayna knew there was no hope of fighting back. Hopefully the execution would happen by quick bursts of energy fire, instead of any prolonged torture.

So, this was the end.

Rayna could almost be proud of herself, to have come this far inside an enemy battlecruiser. Though it had been all pointless in the sense that they would not be able to transmit any intel back to the UPFF forces.

She closed her eyes for second. She certainly did not wish to go yet, hoping life to have more in store for her. Yet risk was always part of UPFF duties, she knew that. And death could already have taken her back at the Academy. Like it had taken many of the Starport citizens.

Should she say something in defiance –

Before she could decide, she saw Kris and Anatoli exchange glances. Anatoli gave a silent thumbs-up. Were they going to do something?

With a huge blast of noise, Anatoli transformed into Turrican wheel form, firing all of his weapons chaotically. Sparks flew from the consoles, and the Machine roared in anger. The two sentinel robots opened fire, trying to track the chaotically bouncing wheel, which had taken to flight now.

Kris opened up with a wide, rapid-fire crescent-shaped shot – had to be plasma – aiming for the Machine's gravity glove before it could take control of them again. It began to glow red hot and the robot-emperor was forced to discard it, howling at an extremely high level that had to be over a hundred decibels. Thankfully the helmet muffled it to a degree.

Enboldened with this sudden display of power, Rayna too fired the phaser rifle at the sentinels, trying to duck behind Kris for cover, and shouting –

"Rhaaaaaaa!"

"That's the superweapon! It doesn't last long! We have to go now!" Kris shouted, lifting Rayna on her feet.

"What about him?"

"He'll join us when it's finished!"

Just as chaotically as the gunfire itself, Rayna and Kris scrambled out of the bridge, Kris shielding her with the suit. Rayna fired behind as she ran, but she knew she was not really hitting anything. Furthermore, the phaser bolts would probably not even do anything to the sentinels or the Machine.

Finally Anatoli's burst of power ran out and he transformed back into bipedal form, landing in the middle of the bridge, almost at the Machine's feet again.

Kris was looking behind too.

And Rayna understood that the top Berzerker was not going to join them. Caught momentarily defenseless, the Machine picked him up like a rag doll, and began swinging and pounding him into the floor repeatedly, until the suit's release controls were triggered by accident (or possibly by excess damage), and Anatoli came out.

Then the Machine's huge metal boot zeroed on his exposed skull and stomped down with full force. Rayna thought she heard the crunch even over the gunfire.

She looked away, to look at Kris instead, but could not see his expression from behind the Turrican helmet. So they just ran forward, with no words exchanged, out into a corridor leading away from the bridge.

Just for a moment, they were out of danger, as the bridge door closed behind them. But the whole battlecruiser had to be on high alert now.

"He gave his life for us," Rayna said. It was not something she had wanted on her conscience, though she had to admit that being on some more borrowed time beat being dead already. The adrenaline was running full blast now, almost causing her to shake.

"He knew the risk and made the choice. Exactly like a soldier. Or a Turrican," Kris replied, the somber voice distorted by the helmet.

* * *

Ahead, there was a four-way intersection. Rayna saw enemies of several kinds closing in from at least two branches. Some of them she had already seen, like the spheres, the large bipedal floaters, and the flesh-metal hybrids, that reminded her of Alterra experiments. And some she had not yet seen, like levitating squid-like monstrosities, even rotor-equipped walker robots –

It certainly looked like too much for the two of them.

"We can't fight them all. Not with you without a Turrican suit. But we may be able to outrun them," Kris said, appearing disproportionately calm.

"Wait. I don't think I can go much faster."

"You just need to shoot. I'll try to shield you."

Rayna did not quite understand what Kris was aiming at. Until he picked her up into his arms like she weighed nothing.

"I hope you don't mind. Now, hang on."

It was certainly unexpected. But to tell the truth, Rayna did not mind. Behind the helmet, she almost smiled. From this position, she could fire one-armed, but accuracy was not going to be the best. Hopefully all that truly mattered now was outrunning the horde.

Kris picked up speed, and the corridor was zooming by at an unbelievable speed. He swerved right, into the fork with the least enemies coming from, then turned his back on them.

Rayna did not need to be told what to do. Pointing the phaser rifle over Kris's shoulder, she fired at full auto, watching the heat indicator rise rapidly.

But even before it filled up, the rifle stopped firing. And Rayna understood: the power cell had ran out.

"Take this instead!" Kris shouted, apparently meaning the Turrican rifle on its back holster. It was attached to the suit with its power cable, so there was no possibility to lose it. That was good.

This was probably not how the Turrican weapon was meant to be used, by a passenger. But if it worked –

Rayna let the phaser rifle clatter to the floor behind, while Kris still ran at near full speed. She had to reach out for the Turrican weapon bit awkwardly. But at last she had it. Much heavier than the rifle. Hopefully the firepower would make up for it.

"Operator identity check disabled! The trigger should work now!" Kris shouted. "But be careful with it. I've selected the Multiple!"

She aimed at the pack of rotor-walkers following them, while Kris let the Turrican suit legs pump for all of their worth. Five streams of full-auto fire fanned out from the barrel, and two of the flyers went down almost instantly, exploding against the wall.

This was true power. Though Rayna knew she should not get overjoyed too early. Like her, Kris probably had no idea where to head to.

The rotor-walkers fired back, and Rayna felt an impact on the side of her helmet. It was holding so far. But at some point luck would run out. She adjusted her aim, hoping to take out the rest.

* * *

Bren looked out into the black space from the Avalon 1's bridge windows. It was odd to have a huge starship basically all to themselves.

Juko was on a terminal to the left of him, looking through the system logs for something she had possibly missed.

Vadim was still in the medical bay, keeping company to Ardon. The Colonel was semi-conscious now, but not really up to speed to advise them on tactics yet.

The Avalon was cruising forward at a nominal speed, slow enough that the maintenance craft would have it easy enough to get back. But they had heard nothing from the R-9. It was not reachable over the FTL comm channels.

"What if they got attacked too?" Bren mused.

Juko stayed silent for a moment, apparently thinking through.

"We could look at its last transmitted location. See if we can spot anything unusual."

Fuck. That was of course what they should have done long ago. Valuable time had been wasted. But if they had met the battlecruiser too ... it could not have been pretty. Bren felt suddenly cold.

"Let me see," Juko said, and tapped the terminal touchscreen. Bren came closer to look; it was a display showing transmitted data from the R-9.

"This is curious … the transmission ends abruptly, but before that, there's sudden acceleration. Like they're being –"

"Sucked in?" Bren guessed. Meaning, by the Machine's battlecruiser. Certainly not a pleasant fate.

"Yes. Precisely."

"Can we calculate anything from the data we have?"

"It's not going to be reliable. The enemy ship could have changed direction at will."

"Maybe if we calculate an average. From the direction we were heading originally. The data on the insect-craft. And the direction the R-9 was sucked in. See if there's anything that way. Like a planet or something."

Bren knew he was mostly just rambling. He was certainly no expert on space navigation.

"We can try that. Of course, we could just end up getting ourselves lost. I'd like to wait for the Colonel, what he's got to say," Juko replied.

"Well, in any case, it's safe to say the tech crew is not going to join us now, right? So we could boost the engine speed back to original, while we wait."

"Could do that."

Fuck. Bren certainly would not have wanted to captain a starship, with a full crew to be responsible of. But with just the four of them here, it was a bit more manageable. It was only them that would be getting lost. And if they did, and perished to the void of space, they would not be around to witness their pay deduction from losing a UPFF vessel.

Bren got back to the pilot's chair, looking at the master controls terminal. He selected "autopilot reset" and thought he sensed acceleration, even if gentle, and an increase in the background hum. Not much of starship piloting skills yet, but everyone had to start from somewhere, Bren thought.

* * *

Rayna was back on her feet now. Utilizing the Turrican suit's speed, they had finally lost all of the pursuers. Now they were in a quiet, dark hangar, with a row of bulky automated transport craft, roughly ten meters long each, standing by. Apparently they would depart for the planet they had seen from the bridge windows. Like in the cargo hall they had first met the levitating robots in, conveyor belts led into the transports for automated loading.

There was a steady, unnerving hiss of air that repeated, but it appeared to have no significance.

Kris kept watch, while Rayna tried frantically to come up with a course of action. Would hitching a ride on one of them be an improvement? They could be entering a potential extremely unforgiving and life-hostile environment. The technician's suit would not necessarily be enough to survive. But here they would also be hunted down endlessly, until their luck ran out.

"If we manage to get in, it's possibly going to be logged. Then they know what craft to look inside. Or to blow up in mid-air," Kris said cynically.

After the adrenaline of the escape had dissipated, his spirits were low. As he understood there was likely not going to be getting away, or survival, in any case. The loss of Anatoli also had to be weighing down on him, though he had shrugged it off initially.

Rayna wanted to say something to lift his spirits, but she knew plotting their next step needed to take priority.

Suddenly one of the conveyor belts came to life. This could be their chance, if they wanted in. No failed hacking attempts, just slipping in unnoticed.

A hatch opened on the opposite wall, and an unremarkable, roughly one meter high metal container rolled in.

"Decision time. Do we go in when the craft's door opens?" Rayna asked.

Kris shook his head slowly. "We don't know what the planet's like. I know I will survive in the suit, while your chances are worse. Do you want to risk that?"

Rayna made the final decision purely on the fact that she had had enough of running and fighting. The ride would mean an opportunity to rest, at last. And she would get to see the planet … even if it would be the last thing she saw.

It was not exactly rational. Not exactly how an Intelligence officer should be thinking. But ninety-nine percent of the time they were operating from the comfort of an office chair, not being hunted down on a machine warship!

Rayna got the word out barely.

"Yes."

"We go then. I'll check it out first."

The crate reached the transport craft, and its rear door opened just like Rayna had imagined. Leading with the Turrican rifle, Kris went in.

"It's clear. No maintenance robots. There's just a loading system. Watch out for it."

Rayna followed, emerging into an almost pitch-black cargo hold. She switched on the light amplification, and saw stacks of the boxes, as well as the robotic loading arms moving the last arrived box into place. They were easy enough to dodge, and there appeared to be no sentience, or at least, no malevolence, on their part.

The door closed behind them just as quickly.

Running so long on adrenaline, Rayna only knew she was very tired now. If this was to become their floating coffin, then so be it.

She sat down in the front corner, as far away from the door as possible, and Kris joined her, the Turrican suit making some noise when he sat. If the cargo hold was wired for sound, the Machine would certainly know of their presence.

Rayna looked around, trying to see if there was a camera lens somewhere. Appeared to be none, though it could well be miniaturized.

Now they could only wait.

* * *

"If I'm honest, I thought it was going to be the end of the road for me," Ardon said. "But thanks for proving me wrong."

The Colonel was still lying on the auto-surgeon bed, but was now fully conscious. His stomach was covered in bandages, and there was an IV line going in to keep his body in balance. The actual synthetic blood transfusions had already completed.

"Was glad to be of service, sir," Bren said. "Now, we'd have a tactical, or navigational question. There's this maintenance craft that didn't come back. We suspect it was hit by the same battlecruiser as us."

"And you would want to track the cruiser?"

Bren nodded. "Is there any way that would be possible?"

Ardon ran fingers through his beard several times.

"FTL engines, if they are of the same design as us, will leave a faint trail of fuel exhaust. If we know where it has last been, we may be able to follow it."

That sounded much better than just taking the average of two directions. Following the trail, there would be no guesswork.

"Excellent. Yes, we have a quite good idea."

"Give me a moment or two, and I'll see if I can wheel myself to the bridge."

Bren thought Ardon had already done more than enough to help. Though, if he felt like he could be moving already, even if by robot-wheelchair, even better.

"No hurry, Colonel."

* * *

The cargo transport was now in flight. The rocket engine noise in the hold was almost painfully loud; it certainly had not been designed for humans to ride along. Maybe that was better, to keep them alert until they reached the planet. There could be a hell of a reception party once they landed. Or the environment could also be lethal enough on its own.

The hold was pressurized though, apparently used for the transport of organic beings too. Rayna had not needed to use the air tank yet, and had her helmet off.

She knew she should say something to Kris. If the words would only come. They had made it this far, but it was unlikely they would come out of this alive. The Avalon 1 had gone dark too. It was just as unlikely it would come to their aid at the last minute. But she did not want to remind Kris of any of that.

In the end, it was Kris who opened up first.

"You probably don't even want to hear this. But I can't help feeling I failed. I had no plan for escape, besides running away. And I let Anatoli get himself killed. He shouldn't have had to make that choice."

Kris had removed his Turrican helmet too, and his face was a frown of regret. Rayna forced her voice as calm as she managed, though she was still feeling somewhat jumpy.

"I – want to hear. Remember, you managed to keep me alive. That wasn't a given. Not much of a scratch even. And … that part of the escape made me smile."

Kris smiled at her, and Rayna thought she had managed to do at least something right. It was not right for Kris to be blaming himself, while they were still breathing.

She also wanted to add something. It was a bit of a threshold again, something she could not take back any more, if she went for it. But she had hesitated enough. Here, in the bowels of this automated cargo ship, out in machine-controlled space, she thought it was finally time to forget the proper behavior between a higher- and lower-ranked UPFF officer.

"I wouldn't mind that happening again. Like, maybe even without the gun."

Kris looked at her in mock puzzlement.

"Now, is that a Captain of the UPFF flirting with me?"

Rayna had to stop for a moment. What was the proper response?

"Yes, that might be."

"And using your position as a superior officer in an improper manner?"

Now Rayna could not help smiling in turn. She imagined a board of officers giving her a serious reprimand, or possibly even a dishonorary discharge. It would be much of an improvement over being stranded in machine space.

"Yes, definitely."

"Then I should say, carry on."

For a moment Rayna had to close her eyes. This was almost too much. Though it was probably what she had wanted to happen, even for a while.

"I should also say that you look very pretty when you do that."

Shut up already, Rayna thought.

Just briefly she had to consider that Kris was probably of the type that had said the same to many before her. But they had probably not fired his Turrican gun. Or been locked in a machine cargo hold with him.

To make him shut up, she just needed to close the distance. Rayna felt her heart pounding now, a bit painfully even. Their lips almost touched; only a little more to go.

Then, all of a sudden Kris pulled her in the rest of the way. With the Turrican arms and gloves on, it felt rough, machine-like. But his kiss was very much human. It did not really ease her heart, if anything the rush of emotion made it even worse, but in a way Rayna was relieved. One less regret, in the extremely likely case that the fatal end of their journey was getting close. And amused, too. Of totally acting like an Intelligence officer was expected to.


	10. World 4-1

**World 4-1**

Bren, along with Vadim, observed Ardon and Juko pilot the Avalon 1 by a slightly unorthodox method of teamwork. Ardon had driven himself onto the ship's bridge with the motorized wheelchair. Neither of them was a qualified pilot, but Ardon knew what the ship was capable of doing, while Juko could find her way around the unfamiliar interfaces, and was fast to learn.

They had increased the engine power to the maximum that still allowed them to keep on the machine battlecruiser's trail. Using the R-9's last coordinates, it had been easy enough to pick up.

Starships like the Avalon 1 could store almost incomprehensible amounts of FTL fuel. Still, going faster always consumed more, and there was a critical gauge they needed to watch: the optimum available range. It should not fall lower than the distance to the nearest UPFF installation. Here, deep in enemy space, and especially in light of the sabotage, they could not rely on another ship coming to their aid.

They had not sent any status updates to UPFF command. That was certainly against protocol, but it was for a good reason, to let the traitors think the Avalon 1 had been lost, as intended.

Now Bren observed the velocity gauge to start dropping. Just a bit at first, but it was falling steadily.

"What's happening," he asked, suddenly anxious. A backup virus? Or another malfunction?

"That's expected. We're approaching a large mass," Ardon answered.

"A planet?"

"Yes, likely. Let's see the long-range scanner..."

Juko pressed one of the bridge displays, and the view changed, showing a sphere slowly scrolling in from the edge.

"As expected," Ardon said. "That has to be the world of the Machine."

Bren felt his heart jump. After being in the dark for so long, it looked like their ultimate goal was suddenly in sight. Though he could not exactly think of waltzing in and laying waste to all of the Machine's army, even if they had a starship and a few Turrican suits. Seriously, they would have needed the full force of the UPFF behind them now.

"Has the battlecruiser landed there?"

"We're not seeing it yet. The exhaust trail still continues. Switch to shorter range."

Before Juko could manipulate the display again, red lights came to life on the bridge, and the short-range scanner activated automatically. Bren could see the swarm of fast approaching dots.

He could well guess what they were. The insect-craft would be making their second appearance.

"We've got bogeys," Ardon said.

"Can the ship handle them?" Bren asked.

"The main particle beam's not much use, since it fires forward, and takes time to charge. But we've got the rotating auto-cannons. And the singularity generators. Still, with no gunners, I wouldn't rely on the computers to do the job just right. You better get to the hangar and jump into a Katakis."

Bren could only agree. Now that they were no longer under the spell of the virus, the ship was much more capable of defending itself, but it made sense to use all available offensive power they had. And he wanted to be out there, dishing out revenge personally.

"I'll go too," Vadim said in a rough tone. "I've been in the simulator. And once, when a pilot fell ill, I flew a real Katakis back into a hangar. The canned food … was all contaminated. Everyone was shitting themselves for days after."

Flying with minimum experience among real enemies, among lethal defenses of their own, did not sound especially sane. But still, Bren did not want to protest. It would still be one more Katakis out there, punishing the insects. He would just have to watch out for friendly fire.

* * *

Witnessed with his own eyes, it certainly could be classified as a whole horde of the insect-craft.

Bren flew around the Avalon 1, trying to dodge the multiple streams of red enemy fire, while attempting to score hits with the cobalt blasters. Thankfully the ship was doing its part too: the heavy green plasma bolts from the hull-mounted auto-cannons were lethally accurate, once the targeting computer decided on a target to fire upon. Usually, it resulted in one more machine craft blown to nothingness.

Vadim was on the other side of the Avalon, still coming to grips with the huge speed of the Katakis in battle conditions. He had not yet managed to do much, except maybe to distract the enemy.

An alert lit up on the cockpit display. Bren knew it was the Avalon's computer, warning of an impending singularity opening up in front of him. Directly ahead there was a pack of five insect-fighters, so the machine had decided to take them out all at once.

Bren banked hard right, toward the ship.

The Katakis shook as the singularity opened and began its pull. Fuck, Bren thought. If he could not outrun it before it reached full strength, he too would be crushed to a tiny bit of metal and flesh and bone. Almost like Luna's VR world vertices.

Another two insect-craft were approaching from the ship's direction, having managed to avoid the auto-cannons. They opened fire, and the shaking continued as the Katakis shield began to deplete. Bren was headed to pass right between them, but he was not sure whether the shield could hold until then.

He had to choose one of the enemies, and try to destroy it, while the other would still keep firing. He pulled up and to the left, rammed down the trigger, and the twin guns spat out cold blue death.

But the enemies kept firing too. The shield was reaching into the red, and a shrill repeating alarm began to sound. The left-side insect craft exploded at last, and Bren had a split-second choice to make: try to get away from the remaining one, or attack it head-on?

Fuck. Away. The shield was deep in the red already. Bren pulled up abruptly, only to understand he had rotated a full 180 degrees, back into the direction of the singularity. It should be closing any moment, which would be the time it exerted the strongest pull.

Fuck alright. Back toward the ship then. Bren went into a simultaneous bank and spin, hoping it would distract the remaining enemy enough. The shield had recharged just out of the red in the meanwhile.

Bren came out of the spin, reacquired the enemy, and while it was still confused, he pressed down on the trigger again.

Another explosion.

But further away, there were more of the craft approaching. Bren hoped there would be enough time for the shield to recharge properly now.

Suddenly, one of the approaching enemies exploded. Bren understood it had to be Vadim responsible.

Then, there was a green flash, and another explosion. The Avalon's computer had reacted too.

"Thanks!" Bren shouted to the helmet mic. He remembered the simulator run on the ship, when Kris had helped him, and he had been just fuming inside. Now Bren understood that was pointless. At least in real war, you should take all the help you could get.

* * *

Rayna was shaken awake a bit crudely by Kris's Turrican hands. For a moment she could not understand, that she had actually managed to fall asleep in the cargo transport noise, against the hard surface of his Turrican suit.

The noise had stopped, so the transport had landed on the machine planet.

"Have to get ready," Kris said. "When that door opens, there's likely to be company."

Rayna struggled to get into the proper mode of operation again, out of the far too inviting in-between space between dreamland and reality. At last, she climbed out of Kris's lap, onto the metal floor.

"Just so that I don't forget, thanks for the ride."

For a second Rayna had to think what Kris meant. Apparently, just to watch her sleep against him. Such a small thing, that it almost made her sad. In another future he could have had plenty more time for that. But in the one unveiling before them right now – unlikely.

Rayna had to force the words out. "The pleasure was mine."

Suddenly she felt angry instead. They could still have that future, if they fought hard enough. But the odds felt just impossible. Though the situation was also almost relieving in its simplicity and finality. Get out of here or die trying.

Now that they were on the planet, they would have a larger playground to hide in, but just hiding would get them nowhere. Somehow, they would have to contact the UPFF. Or hijack a craft they could pilot themselves.

"Better to connect the air tank. I wouldn't count on the planet being as habitable as the ship," Kris reminded.

Rayna connected the hose to the helmet, and put it on. Kris was prepared too. Too bad only he had a weapon. Well, he was the much better shot anyway.

With a metallic crunch, the rear door began to open at last. The loading mechanism also stirred to life, preparing to move the cargo boxes out.

"The unloading can get … busy. Better to get out sooner than later," Rayna said.

"True. I'm getting readings now. Too much nitrogen. Not enough oxygen for us to survive. Otherwise, not looking too bad yet. I'll know more once I step outside."

Rayna did not see much yet from the opening. A very dark gray sky, possibly. Then, there was a flash of lightning, casting sharp shadows on the cargo hold just for a split-second. A few seconds later, a deep rumble.

It also appeared to be raining. Kris peered out from the fully opened door. Now Rayna could see a similar conveyor belt as in the automated hangar.

"Rain is corrosive. It should not eat right through your suit, but still, we need to find cover. It's a cargo unloading platform, high off the ground. Conveyors and metal ramps leading down. And we've got company. Walking and floating variety."

Roughly what Rayna had expected. Though, it could have been much worse, with guard robots tearing the transport open as soon as it landed, or just firing a stream of missiles inside. Or the Machine detonating the whole ship by remote control.

* * *

Bren landed the Katakis fighter inside the Avalon 1's hangar and climbed out. Vadim was already there, looking pale and unsteady with his helmet off. Almost like he would vomit any second.

At least that wave of enemies had been cleared. Bren hoped they would reach the planet before the second one. Or – the Machine's battlecruiser itself. It too had to be out there.

"Hope to not do that again for a while," Vadim said. "Like, it looks easy when Tom Cruise does it. Or you."

"You did extremely well. I could have been toast."

"You mean, for someone unqualified?" Vadim asked.

"If you want to take it that way."

Suddenly there was Ardon's voice inside Bren's helmet.

"We're seeing a Turrican signal on the planet! Yes, it must be right. Will change course immediately. Hold on, this can get rough!"

Almost right after, the ground felt to be shifting underneath Bren's feet. Vadim was thrown against his Katakis, and threw up something mostly orange on the hull.

"Fuck," he breathed.

"It's all right. We've got cleaning droids. Let's head back to the bridge, when you feel steady enough."

* * *

Rayna could not do much but to tag along and keep to cover, while Kris fired at the approaching robots. The "bounce" weapon mode was sort of ingenious – the machine-brains might well jump out of the way of a directly approaching projectile, but the plasma sphere would split in two smaller ones, and with the right aim, bounce back into the enemy.

But despite the Turrican firepower, it did not look good. The cargo platform was part of a huge complex, mostly made of large metal panels, built onto a rocky mountain. Though even the rocks could be metal too, if this was the artificial planet. Due to the fog and rain, Rayna could not know exactly how large the complex was, except that the lights appeared to extend far in the distance. If she looked up, there was also a tall, sinister-looking tower, also lit.

Wherever they went, it had to be full of machines. The Turrican suit could not have limitless power. Twice already, Kris had slammed a fresh power cell in, to replenish the suit's shield. He could not have many remaining.

The rain was constant. It smelled of sulfur. Acid. The technician suit was holding so far, but already she noticed the fabric was getting discolored. It would not be long before the rain would eat its way through. Plus, the air supply would not last forever. Down below, Rayna could see an entrance into the mountain and the complex, but there were still tens of enemies in between, including the large jetpack-floaters.

Kris was caught in the explosion of a large plasma shot, and he too ducked into cover.

"Fuck! I'm in the red. Time for the last power cell."

Shit. At this rate it was not enough to clear a route. Kris had done his best, but it was not going to be enough. Right now Rayna could have given anything for a second Turrican suit. Or even the discarded phaser rifle.

* * *

From the bridge windows, it was an awe- and fear-inspiring sight as the machine planet zoomed in. Bren's heart felt like it was in his throat, as the adrenaline raced. They were on a steep downward glide, near the maximum the Avalon 1 could take.

A world of rocks and metal. Rain. Thunder. A grid of lights below. Several towers. It had to be filled to the brim with hostile machines. Certainly, no chance to take them all on, no matter how Bren thought of the Avalon's firepower. Or the Turrican suits.

They were still homing in on the lone Turrican signal.

Kris.

Somehow he had made it down on the planet, after the R-9 had been ingested by the Machine's warship. Bren could not even begin to imagine what the escape had required.

"Look!" Ardon shouted. "That has to be the heart of the machine complex! That large tower!"

Bren saw it now, a tower much taller and heavier than the rest, rising possibly almost one kilometer into the sky, though it was hard to tell exactly through the rain The base was sturdy, then it tapered off, until reaching the saucer-shaped top.

Bren considered whether the Avalon's firepower would be enough to just concentrate fire on the tower and make it collapse. Or launch singularities at it. But then he remembered that the singularity generators only worked in space.

"We've got hostiles," Juko said. "More of the insect-craft closing in! You better man the cannons. Don't think you'll make it to the Katakises in time. And if we make a quick liftoff after picking Kris up, you could be left behind!"

"Right. Just tell me what buttons to press!" Bren yelled, prepared to take a seat.

He was not at all sure whether they could manage the extraction. If the planet was on alert now, the enemies had to be hunting Kris too, on the ground. Still, as long as they knew their man was out there and breathing, they would not leave him behind.

* * *

More of the robots below were toast, but Kris's last power cell was in the red too. Rayna urged him to get on the move.

"There's nowhere to go, except down," Kris said bitterly. "We can't hope to outrun them this time."

Rayna flashed back to something odd. Some of the old Earth-era films depicted a hopeless escape, typically in a four-wheeled vehicle. For a romanticized feeling, time would appear to slow down or even freeze at the moment of impact. She imagined a similar escape now, with them jumping off the platform. But the Turrican suit did not have flight capability, so there would be just the fatal impact at the bottom. At least for her, even if the exoskeleton somehow managed to protect Kris.

She became aware of a heavy, low whine from the sky, over the rumble of thunder, forcing her back to the present.

It had to be the Machine's battlecruiser! It had joined the hunt at last too, coming to gloat at their demise. Rayna imagined the caped robot laughing in victory.

But then large flashes of green started raining down, taking out the remaining robot horde. Explosions lit up the rocks and metal platforms below. This did not add up. Rayna looked up and saw a large ship approaching through the storm clouds, and she realized –

"Has to be the Avalon!" she shouted.

She could not really believe it, but somehow the crew had survived despite the attack and the communication blackout. If they could just hang on a few more moments, there would be an extraction. Rayna pulled Kris to cover, and he was too exhausted to protest. It was a bit ridiculous, as if she was shielding the mighty Turrican with her acid-soaked technician suit.

Rayna saw the huge ship's cannons now, rotating to acquire the ground targets, and some flying ones too. There were insect-craft that she recognized, following the Avalon's descent, trying to intercept it. But they were all being torn to shreds.

Finally the ship came to hover near the loading platform, inching cautiously closer. It was probably as close as it could get. A maintenance door opened on the side; they could jump onto the Avalon's right wing and run to it.

"Let's go! Onto the wing!" Rayna urged Kris on.

Just then, she thought again she had been overjoyed too early. Two of the jetpack robots were flying up to the platform, to attempt to kill them right before extraction. Kris reacted sharply, firing the flamethrower laser at one of them, and it fell away. But the other turned to fire at him in retaliation –

Rayna could do not much more than to duck behind a cargo crate next to her. She could have attempted to crash-tackle Kris away, but with the flamethrower live, it could have ended badly.

She looked back at the direction of Avalon, hoping for some last-second rescue.

And there it was.

Another Turrican suit peered out from the maintenance door, firing at the remaining robot. The concentrated flamethrower fire engulfed its head, and it was thrown back, exploding while in mid-air.

"Get in!" the Turrican shouted, using an amplified voice to be heard over the distance.

And they were sprinting up the wing, into safety. Rayna found it hard to believe. But it was reality, and not dreaming.

As soon as they were in, the Turrican hit the switch to close the door, and Rayna was thrown off balance, against the unknown hero. She made sure to regain balance in record time.

"Bren, thanks! Just in time," Kris exclaimed.

Rayna understood that the Turrican comms system would have a way to identify each suit wearer, while she was sort of cut off from that information. She certainly remembered Bren, the guy with purple hair loading up the equipment crates onto the Avalon.

"Yeah. There's Ardon, Vadim and Juko aboard. The rest were killed in the attack."

"Right," Kris said, voice serious. "The technicians didn't make it either. As well as Anatoli. What's our plan now?"

"Ardon can fill you in better. But the ship was compromised, right back at the Starport. So that means UPFF is compromised. Right now, the plan is just to get the hell out. Before the Machine returns with its own ship. Sorry, I don't think –"

"We saw the Machine too. It killed him."

Bren went silent, and Rayna thought back to the top Berzerker's head getting stomped. It was not a pleasant memory, and Rayna wanted it off her mind if at all possible. Yet, she knew she could not use any kind of doping to achieve that right now. The danger was still on. But still, the immediate future was looking much brighter than just a moment before, being trapped on the loading platform in acid rain.

* * *

The Avalon 1 was climbing rapidly, away from the planet surface. It was just to get some breathing room, to have time to make a proper plan. Bren thought that in other circumstances, it would have made the most sense to hit the mission abort button and head home at maximum FTL burn.

But not with the UPFF compromised.

And not with what Rayna had told overhearing. The Machine speaking of things Bren honestly could not piece together yet, but which sounded important.

"I know what they are planning. To build a new machine … a new intelligence ... to overthrow me. But they don't understand I've seized control of the core. I have their life-force in my hands."

Out of the acid-burned technician suit and back in the light-blue Intelligence uniform, Rayna joined them at the bridge.

"Had some time to think properly, at last," she said. "Before the mission, I was in a Tech division meeting, where the concern was suddenly about energy, and not the machines. That Machine talking about a core, or life-force, it sounds an awful lot like that's about energy too."

"It's true the UPFF's energy situation is not good," Ardon said. "Still, in my mind, our people getting slaughtered by machines takes the top priority. Energy problems can be tackled after that. Unless –"

"It's to the same end," Rayna finished the thought.

"So, would it mean there's some kind of God-level power source on the planet?" Vadim asked.

"Possibly, and this potential unknown third party the Machine hinted at," Rayna said. "There's also something else that we weren't able to put together yet. The machine craft were making unexplained burst transmissions during the Starport attack. What were they transmitting?"

"It's a shit situation, that we can't call home. If we go back there on our own, and get ourselves killed, then all that intel goes down the drain," Kris said.

"Right. I don't like it either. There has to be practically an unlimited supply of enemies down there," Bren said. "Still, it's possible there's not going to be anyone else reaching this planet any time soon. Don't think they would want to send a second starship to its potential doom. Or – if the traitor is still out there, it would get sabotaged and attacked just the same."

He thought he had not exactly unloaded any positive ideas. But it was best to stay honest. Bren also observed Rayna to stand rather close to Kris. So, they likely had something going on. And that would just make the mission harder for them. Potential for heartbreak.

Bren thought he could breathe freely in that regard, and was glad for it. In and out of adrenaline and life-threatening situations so many times, he thought not much would get to him now. Though, that could also be risky. He could get reckless and get himself needlessly killed. It could in fact be better to have something very personal to fight for.

Well, he would fight for their band … of six. As long as he was breathing.

Bren almost had to laugh, as he thought of them. Ardon was of course the officer in charge, but otherwise there had been very little military discipline ever since the attack. That of course made sense. They were just six people, trying to do their best in an impossible situation, and any bullshit would just get in the way.

"Hey!" Juko's voice alerted him. "Think something is on our tail. Something large."

Bren felt electrified, all thoughts of humor abandoned in an instant. The Machine's battlecruiser. With the planet's mass preventing FTL speed, it would find and reach them easily enough.

Fuck. This could yet get ugly. What did they have? Maybe now was time to put the main cannon to use.

* * *

Juko was handling the ship's controls, having become quite a starship pilot in extremely short time. Next to her, Ardon had the particle cannon targeting and firing controls on his display. Bren thought he looked somewhat healthier already, but maybe it was just the adrenaline. Particularly with his age, the strain could also make him collapse unexpectedly.

The rest of them, Bren included, were at the secondary gunner terminals, ready to take manual control of the rotating auto-cannons if necessary. Though it was unlikely their range or firepower would be enough for the Machine's ship.

This seemed like a job for Ardon himself.

They had turned around, and the black irregular shape of the battlecruiser was clearly visible. It looked like a flying bio-engineered monstrosity of its own.

"I suspect it has a forward-firing main weapon too," Ardon said. "Don't let it turn our way. But go in from the side."

Bren hazarded a look at Ardon's display and saw a large progress bar, almost reaching maximum. The main cannon charge level. It would be ready to fire any second. Hopefully they could just obliterate the battlecruiser and everything inside, including the Machine itself.

The Avalon 1 was closing in fast from the side, just like Ardon had instructed. He hit the firing control –

An awesomely powerful and wide pure-white beam shot out from underneath the bridge windows, hitting the hull of the battlecruiser.

In response, the whole cruiser began to glow, as if just absorbing and dissipating all the destructive energy.

"They have shields, right?" Juko shouted, anxious.

"Looks like it! I'll keep pumping the juice into the bastard until I run dry –"

Almost on cue, the beam extinguished, the space ahead of them becoming just black again.

"Need to recharge. Stand by to evade!"

"Do we have shields like that?"

"Much weaker, I'm afraid. If they hit us with – Never mind. Just keep clear of their forward direction."

Bren observed Juko's movements become more frantic. It was unfair to have a novice pilot be immediately tested against an overwhelming enemy. Still, he would not have wanted to be at the controls himself. It was a whole different art, flying a lumbering starship instead of a fighter. In fact Bren's hours of training could have worked against him.

"It's launching –" Juko said, then her words froze mid-sentence.

Bren squinted his eyes, and saw the battlecruiser launch both the familiar insect-craft, and something else, from fast opening and closing portholes on the sides. Smooth metal spheres, that fired thrusters of their own, quickly getting closer.

"Homing mines!" Ardon shouted. "Keep your calm. It's trying to drive us into the front –"

Bren activated manual control, ready to fire with the auto-cannon. But there were no enemies in range yet.

"Can we take them out with the black holes?" Juko asked.

"Not high enough yet!"

"Then we'll steer higher!"

Juko made a large motion with her hand on the controls terminal, and the Avalon's nose turned upward, leaving the mines, the insect-craft and even the battlecruiser behind.

"Wait! You're leaving us vulnerable!" Ardon shouted. "I see it's turning –"

In almost the next instant, before Juko could correct the course back, the Avalon 1 shook like never before. Bren heard a rumble, like thunder, gradually becoming more abrasive. He could not see what was happening, but it had to be the Machine's cruiser firing its own main weapon into their hull.

Then the bridge became a cacophony of red warning lights and alert noises. Bren's auto-cannon display shut itself to black.

"Losing engine power! I'm sorry –" Juko said, deflated.

Ardon kept his calm, or at least tried to. "I'll try to get us down on the planet. Have to keep dodging too. If it hits us again, the hull might just disintegrate. I tried to get in that request for stronger plating, but it was deemed unnecessary, a waste of energy –"

Then he turned to the rest of them.

"Everyone else, to the armory! Juko, you too. Into the Turrican suits, while the cradles still have power!

"Will you be joining us?" Rayna asked.

"The suit would of course help, but I don't think I have enough strength for an extended journey. So, that would be a negative."

The commander goes down with his ship, Bren thought forlornly. But it was an unavoidable line of thinking. He certainly did not want Ardon's last mission to go that way, especially with him having just recovered from the injuries at the hands of the mutants.

Bren knew their luck had been short-lived. With the battlecruiser out there, it possibly had been an inevitability in any case, and now the decision had been made for them. Back onto the planet, with just the Turrican suits for protection, innumerable foes waiting for them.

Of course, first they would have to make it through the crash-landing. Considering the odds stacked against them, Bren was also ready to welcome death, at least if it would be over quick. And if his fate was out of his hands. He did not believe in anything supernatural, but still, it would mean joining Luna. At least in a poetic sense.

* * *

The crash-landing of the Avalon 1 was like the end of the world. Like an earthquake that seemed to go on and on. The five of them were thrown inside the armory like ragdolls, the Turrican shield system already depleting a bit just from the impacts. The armory lights flickered on and off madly. But still, the protective exoskeleton held, and prevented actual injury, though it still hurt somewhat.

At last, it became silent. And the lights stayed off. Bren switched on light amplification.

"Everyone OK?" Kris asked. "We'll need to get out right now!"

"I'll go check on Ardon," Bren protested.

"No time! The battlecruiser is still out there. Do you want to get vaporized?"

Bren considered for a second, but had to admit that Kris was right. It would be up to them to unravel the mystery of this planet now, not sacrifice themselves uselessly.

They ran to the nearest exit and out to the seemingly perpetual night of the planet.

The Avalon had landed in the middle of jagged rocks, with hills towering all around them. The rain was constant. As well as the thunder. Off in the distance, Bren could see the lights of the machine complex. And somewhere far ahead, though now obscured by the fog and rain, had to be the tallest tower, which he imagined as the Machine's on-ground dominion.

Before he joined the rest, Bren turned to look at the Avalon 1 for the last time. It was a sorry sight now, with its hull torn and internal structures showing from several large jagged holes along its length.

Then, out of nowhere, a beam lanced down from the sky, tearing through the Avalon's hull one more time. The Machine was showing its might, taunting them, demoralizing them.

And Bren understood he had to get on the run, right now. He reached a formation of rocks and jumped into their cover with Turrican-augmented strength just as the ground shook with a tremendous explosion, and large pieces of metal flew right past of him, missing the four Turricans running ahead of him just narrowly.

For a few seconds Bren just caught his breath, afraid to look back. But at last he had to force himself. He saw just a blackened crater where their starship had crash-landed a minute ago.

The Avalon 1 was no more.


	11. World 4-2

**World 4-2**

Bren knew his spirits were low. He had not quite imagined for Avalon 1 and Ardon to meet their end this way. The rest were not doing much better. Not many words had been exchanged through the Turrican communications. With not much options, they were making their way through the endless rain, closer to the lights of the machine complex.

So far, no actual enemy encounters. A few creatures, like small worms slithering on the ground, and some sort of armadillos, but they were not actively hostile. Bren made note of the environment warnings. Weak acid rain, low oxygen, high nitrogen. Could have been worse. Possibly that was the environment the Machine's mutants thrived in.

He observed Kris to be teaching Rayna the basics of Turrican operation as they went. That seemed like a very cost-effective way to go. Maybe the training with all of its drills had just been bullshit for the most part, a waste of time.

Now Bren was a bit surprised to get a closed channel communication from Juko.

"I fucked up big time," she said.

"You made a choice in the heat of the action. Sometimes they're right and sometimes not. I have fucked up many times too. Like – during the Starport attack, I was too slow and too far away to get to Luna. But remember, we made it through the landing alive. With its shield – I don't think we could have beaten the battlecruiser in any case," Bren replied.

"Yeah."

There was a pause. Then Juko continued, in an odd detached voice.

"It reminds me of something. The earlier part of the game you played – in it it's up to you to upgrade the ship, before the finale. Then depending on that, people live or die. It's a bit stupid and mechanical. Reality's a bit more messy, isn't it?"

"Right."

"You think it's stupid if I talk of a fucking video game when we're on this enemy planet?"

"Hey. Whatever makes you feel better. I'm not going to judge you. I could talk on and on about Gamma Ray lyrics too. Though I don't think they have a machine planet song, or a crash-landing song."

"Right. Do they have, like, cute songs?"

"Not really."

Juko's voice fell silent, and Bren saw the private channel disappear. But her final words had sounded a bit more upbeat. A bit more like her usual self, and maybe that lifted Bren's spirits too.

Finally there was an opening into subterranean depths in front of them.

"We go in there?" Vadim asked.

Ahead, in the sky, Bren could faintly spot some of the insect-craft patrolling. Without aerial support of their own, they could quickly become an overwhelming opposition, cutting through the Turrican shields in little time.

"Can be a safer route," Bren said. "At least no eyes in the sky. Still, have to stay alert. I wouldn't rule out some nasty things living underground."

No protests from any of the rest. So, it was time to get below.

In the confined spaces, they would have to watch out before using the higher-powered Turrican weaponry. The potential for friendly fire would be greater. And any explosives, like the wheel mines, could bring down the cave ceiling down on them too.

* * *

Rayna had her wish now, to be inside a Turrican suit of her own, but she found it did not do that much to ease her mind. Even with the five of them suited up, the potential opposition waiting for them could be just too much to handle. Somehow they had to play it extremely smart, to bypass most of the enemies, but again, they were navigating completely unknown territory.

To the uninitiated, the Turrican helmet with its displays was quite claustrophobic too. At least now, when they were descending through the subterranean passageways. And she would have to watch out for the shield meter dropping to critical, ready to pop a spare power cell in. Somehow she thought the UPFF could have been capable of building a much better fighting suit, with some miniature auto-recharging shield generator instead.

She had the weird feeling of being an outsider in the group. Well, considering the rest of them had been in the actual training and she was just winging it, the feeling was justified, even if they were welcoming for the most part.

Technically she would need to be in charge, with the highest rank of them all, but was glad to leave the choice of tactics and direction to Kris and Bren. If there were actual matters of Intelligence to tackle, then she would take more initiative.

The passage appeared natural, but then, she reminded herself that this was an artificial planet. So in fact everything had been constructed. By whom? Was it that mythical "they" the Machine had referred to?

There was some luminous growth on the walls.

Still, no enemy contact, as they progressed for several minutes.

Rayna's thoughts began to drift back to the journey on the cargo auto-transport. It felt somehow distant now. Was Kris somehow distant too, already? Or was she imagining things? He had shown that she could open up a private communication channel. But she did not want to appear – what was the word – needy?

Shit. So difficult. In more ways than one.

"What is it?" Kris's voice came in.

Rayna understood that in her thoughts, fiddling with the control buttons on the glove, she had actually opened a channel, and said "shit" aloud. The good was that it was indeed just her and Kris, and not the rest. Not a group channel.

"I was just wondering something stupid."

"If you have something on your mind, just go ahead."

"Thanks, Kris. That helps already."

Rayna let out a sigh. She could have said something more, but it felt unnecessary now. The world felt like a bit better place. And there was still a mission to complete.

* * *

Finally there was a heavy, closed metal door blocking the cave passage. Trapezoidal shape, with no obvious controls for opening. Maybe there was a hidden camera, and it would open automatically upon recognizing whoever was entering. In that case, Turricans would certainly be recognized as highly undesirable to let in, Bren thought.

"That's what I've waited for," Vadim said. "Demolitions. I stuffed my pockets full of the good stuff back at the armory. Even at the expense of a few power-up cells."

"Not so fast. It could cause a collapse," Bren shot back.

"Well. I'll wait for better ideas. But I don't think we should wait for too long."

Juko came forward and examined the door. The Turrican suits had electronics scanning capabilities, but as the training had been focused on combat, it had been touched upon only briefly.

"There's a circuit inside. Which I could try to bypass, or even just burn out, but it would not be much more discreet. In the worst case, it'd get stuck, the other side would be alerted, and we'd still have to blow it up. So if we skip right to that, we'll have surprise on our side."

"Remember, I have several years of experience for calculating the optimal amount of explosives for the kaboom. No computers, just my head."

"Yeah. Sure. Go ahead already," Juko said, almost irritated.

Vadim took out a packet of plastic explosive, using a small knife to cut it roughly to half. He went to mold it into a thin string, going round the whole trapezoid shape. Finally, he attached the remote receiver.

"This will be safe, regarding the ceiling. Still, we need to back off. I didn't say there wouldn't be a blast."

Roughly five meters away, they ducked behind rocks.

"Blowing up now."

The explosion rocked the cave. The door was engulfed by a brief flash, and a heavy cloud of smoke. For a moment Bren thought that there had been no effect, as the smoke began to dissipate. But slowly, gravity took over the slightly smaller trapezoid shape that had been severed from the entirety of the door, and it fell to the cave floor with the rough sound of metal on rock.

Beyond the opening, Bren saw lights. The door gave way to a subterranean complex of some sort. The walls were still rock, but smooth. Thick pipes crawled along the walls and the ceiling, and there was a layer of fog closer to the floor. Not exactly inviting. Still, it looked like the logical next step.

Not many seconds after, he became aware of a noise. A rising, chaotic scream.

Then he saw the advancing horde, coming from the depths of the subterranean complex. Headed right at them. The same weapons, the laser blasters, the meathooks, the spikes. The same gruesome biomass-on-metal shapes.

But this time they had Turrican weaponry.

It was time to open up properly.

* * *

Again, the battle was chaotic to the maximum. But this time it was due to the amount of Turrican projectiles filling the air, streaming to every direction. Bren worked himself into a rage, sweeping the flamethrower to set several of the mutants on fire at once. The stench of burning bio-engineered flesh reached his nostrils in a weakened, filtered form – that the Turrican suit had removed harmful toxins from.

"Fuckers!" he shouted. It was a bit of excessive, but it felt good for the crew of Avalon 1 to have a bit of posthumous payback at last.

Then he switched to wheel form, driving right into the middle of a pack, laying down mines, then rolling away. Exploding flesh rained on his armor just as he came back on his feet. To his left and right, Kris, Juko and Vadim were doing just the same, in their own aggressive way, and Rayna a bit more conservatively, staying to cover and firing bursts.

Bren observed his shield to have depleted only a little. No risk yet. It was back to the fray.

In the meanwhile, floating spheres with red laser eyes had joined the battle. While the rest took them on, Bren was left free to concentrate on the mutants. He dodged a meathook, then yanked on the chain to bring its owner close to him. Up close, the mutant's face was unsettling: three eyes, and a large gaping mouth. Bren brought his Turrican rifle forward and fired a full-power laser blast right through the head, and it just ceased to exist, the rest of the mutant's body falling and twitching, then laying still.

From behind, two more roared in revenge and rushed him, but Bren was already turning around, opening up with the flamethrower and cutting them in half. Then it was time to turn away to look for more.

Bren was almost unsettled by his own savagery too: the Turrican suit gave its owner absolute power over the enemy. He should just not get complacent. Some of the enemies inevitably managed to get shots in, and the shield was in the halfway now.

Further ahead in the darkness, in the direction where the robot enemies had floated in from, Bren saw transparent containers, containing biomass and artificial organs. This had to be a laboratory, possibly for growing those mutants. He ducked in cover of the pipes, and replaced the power cell. The indicator went back to maximum. Much better that way. Yet, he did not discard the half-used cell either, he put it into a leg holster, to be used in emergency when he would be down to his last cell.

Meanwhile his comrades continued the slaughter, until the opposition was thinned down to six remaining in total. Now, Bren felt almost pity. But not quite. He popped out of cover, and a few well-placed bounce shots took care of two more.

The remaining mutants already hesitated to attack. But Bren was sure they would rush the Turricans the moment they displayed reluctance in turn. Reasoning with them was extremely unlikely to work either, with only the highest-ranking ones capable of understanding speech at all.

Therefore, he pressed the trigger down, and his Turrican rifle spat more death, until the last of the mutants was down.

One of the spheres still floated in the air, and Vadim tore into it with a relentless stream of the crescent-blasts, until it exploded. The fragments bounced on the rough floor for just an instant, then it became silent.

* * *

Rayna walked through the laboratory complex floor, leaping over the mutant bodies. She kept looking for some terminal they could access, to get information on the "core," or whoever had built this place if it was not the Machine itself. But it looked like this floor only contained those containers, with frankly disgusting contents.

They needed to get further in. Or onto another floor.

She joined the rest. At the very back, there was another trapezoidal doorway, but this one was open. It felt almost like a potential trap.

Behind, there was a staircase leading both up and down, looking relatively harmless. No more robots arriving for now. Rayna thought carefully. Should they split up to speed up the search? It felt like a potential bad idea. Staying as one group was safer –

Unless they would manage to trigger some trap that would wipe out all of them at once.

"Any ideas?" Bren asked her all of a sudden.

"You mean, as a high and mighty Intelligence officer? Not really. Your guess is going to be as good as mine. By the way, that was quite some brutality."

"Yeah. It's something to not make a habit of. But sometimes, there just isn't much of a choice. And not really, you're just another Turrican to me."

Rayna remembered what Bren had once said, and thought to echo it back.

"Refreshing honesty. And thanks."

"So, we've got multiple floors to explore," Kris said, entering the stairwell with caution and peering to every direction. "Could split up, as long as we stay careful, and in communication."

"How do we split up?" Rayna asked.

Before Kris or anyone else could answer, a long, low animalistic roar echoed through the stairwell. It appeared to come from the top. Rayna had thought of wanting to stay with Kris, but as the most accomplished Turrican along with Bren, he'd be likely to facing the source of that roar head on.

"What's that?" Juko questioned.

"Beats me. But it sounds fucking angry," Vadim said.

The roar repeated.

"If no-one has objections, I would check the source of that sound. Of course, no unnecessary risks. And I'd like to have Bren with me," Kris said.

"I'm cool with that," Bren replied.

* * *

Bren advanced up the stairs with Kris, both with their rifles trained upward. It felt so natural now. No bullshit, no ranking list, just the two of them, facing the heart of the danger head on. Bren could have urged Kris to stay with Rayna, to make sure they had the most chance of surviving together, but he did not want to intrude. Certainly he would not want to tell Kris to chicken out. In a military sense, this was the right call to make.

They reached the top. There was a long, curving, lit-up corridor, also with the familiar rock walls, leading further in. The roar had not repeated for a third –

Now it did. Closer, it felt much louder. It had to be some huge thing. The sound was distorted, seemingly full of anger, and even – agony?

Bren and Kris were in the corridor now. Its far end opened up to a huge chamber, with walls of dull, dark metal instead. That was likely where the sound's owner lived. But yet they could not see it.

They reached the end of the curve at last, and the chamber opening was in front of them. Bren saw Kris freeze in place, then he too saw it.

"Fuck, just fuck," Bren said, while Kris kept silent.

An absolutely huge, formless, red-brown biomass, reaching down to a bottomless chasm below, but also towering easily ten or fifteen meters above them. Attached to its bulk, it had two long, stalk-like arms, with claws at the ends. There were no mouth or eyes to speak of –

Or actually there were. In a morbid sequence, eye- or mouth-like growths appeared on its surface, growing in size, then shrinking down to nothingness again. A mouth-growth reached full size, then roared in the familiar tune. Bren almost imagined the chamber to shake in response.

This was pure insanity. What was the purpose of growing such a monster? Its existence was potentially a continuous, formless agony, except when it was feeding on some hapless victims. Would it eat any mutants found misbehaving?

A walkway circled the pit. At the far end, Bren saw another doorway, with even brighter lighting. Could be the route to some higher-level laboratory or control room. It was possibly what they needed to reach. But the biomass was in the way.

The bulk rotated, the arms flailing in the air. It had possibly noticed them.

"Reached the source of the sound," Kris reported over the comms. "It's a huge – thing."

"Don't risk yourself," came the voice of Rayna.

"There's a doorway right behind it. Could lead to something valuable," Bren said. "I suggest we see if our weapons have any effect. If it's too much, we retreat."

"Sounds about right," Kris replied.

It was a plan. Not very detailed, but would do for the moment.

Bren fired the flamethrower from the safety of the doorway. Due to the size of the chamber, the jet dissipated before quite reaching the creature's skin. He needed to get closer. He observed the walkway to be constructed hazardously. No safety railing, just a direct huge drop. Thankfully it was a full two and a half meters wide, enough for battle maneuvers without the risk of falling. But certainly, no wheel mode here.

"Try something else," Kris suggested.

Bren switched to the laser beam mode, the concentrated form instead of the crescent shot. It covered the distance easily enough. But the creature's skin just seemed to absorb the energy. There was no burn mark. It did not even much of flinch.

Bren thought of the appearing and disappearing growths. Maybe they would be vulnerable. But they were appearing in quite random spots all around the bulk. They would need to get on the walkway to be able to aim properly.

"Think we need to fire at the eyes and mouths! But I don't think we can do it from here."

Kris nodded in agreement. The flailing arms posed a danger, but there was not much options if they wanted to kill this thing.

Bren got out on the walkway first, and saw a fresh eye-growth opening up just to his left. He unleashed a burst with the laser beam, scoring several direct hits.

Immediately, the arms began to flail more. A new mouth appeared, and the creature roared. Kris joined the fray, running along the walkway, firing toward the mouth. The right-side arm passed dangerously close to Bren, and he got on the run too, circling the creature and firing to his right. One more eye was opening.

Fuck. This battle could be won, Bren was sure of it.

Suddenly there was an absolutely devastating impact in his back, and in the next moment Bren found himself flying high in the air, seeing the bulk of the creature below him now. But soon his arc of flight reached its apex, and the blackness of the pit started closing in fast in turn.

The left-side arm had swiped at him, and he had been too slow to notice!

"Bren!" Kris shouted over the comms.

Bren switched weapons one last time, but knew his end had potentially come. No jetpack on the Turrican suit. He would fall into the chasm.

Bren fired the flamethrower as he passed an eye up close. He heard the roar again. Then the burning eye was left somewhere high above, and he was falling inside the pit, in darkness. He fell for many seconds, until there was another impact, along with a crunching sound, but then he saw only the purest blackness.

* * *

On the floor below, there was a maze of corridors and rooms, more claustrophobic than the one they had been to first. Biomass flowed in pipes, into and out of similar transparent containers as on the floor above. Odd steel piston-mechanisms operating in a steady rhythm were compressing and moving the roiling mass forward.

If Rayna was honest, she did not want to stay on this floor any longer than necessary. But they had to check it thoroughly. At least there were Juko and Vadim with her.

Then things had started happening far too fast over the comms.

"Bren!"

"Shit, Bren fell down into the pit!"

Rayna's pulse shot up as Kris narrated the battle. Apparently it was going south fast.

"Damn. It's too much. I'm retreating!"

Rayna felt relief at this. If Bren was gone, it was already bad. If it was an enemy that could not be fought, Kris did not have to sacrifice himself too. No matter what waited on the other side. Maybe it was even something worthless in the end.

"Safe. Back in the corridor. Will join you at the bottom floor!"

It occurred to Rayna that this floor might not be safe either, though it had been empty so far. She scanned around, and true enough, from one side corridor a floating sphere emerged. But instead of a red light on it, this one had blue.

She did not have to wait for long what it meant.

Long arcs of lightning lit up the maze as the sphere tried to zap them. Rayna depressed the trigger to respond with laser fire, while she saw her shield indicator deplete, as the arcs inevitably kept hitting home. Vadim and Juko were firing too, as more of the blue-light spheres kept floating in. It paid to never get careless in here.

"We're in bit of a trouble here too!" she shouted, and ducked behind a piston. The shield meter was reaching halfway. Not too critical yet. She popped back up, firing at the closest sphere before it could turn and zap her, repeating the sequence for another, then saw Juko transform into a wheel and take out the last one with a mine.

Finally all of them were scrap metal.

"Think it's over," she said to the comms. She was glad to just remain in cover, to wait for the worst of the adrenaline to dissipate. It also occurred to her that she should change the shield power cell, to make sure she was fresh for the next encounter. That was a bit fiddly, but at last she managed, just as Kris burst into the room.

"You're OK?" he asked.

Rayna really wanted to answer in the negative. But compared to what Kris had just witnessed, what had happened to Bren, this had been child's play.

"Yeah. Just have to get a little more careful. So … we can't do much for Bren, right?"

Kris shook his head.

"That pit was deep. If you're falling at terminal velocity … there's got to be a limit on how much the suit can protect."


	12. World 4-3

**World 4-3**

Bren drifted in and out of complete blackness. Whenever he did, there was a disturbing electric crackle lancing through his consciousness, accompanied by flashes of light, and the feeling of falling. There was pain somewhere far away, but he could not know if it belonged to his body or only his mind.

The crackle turned into a digitally distorted hum, rising in pitch, and Bren thought his consciousness was jolted to somewhere else.

He saw only blinding white now. He had no sense of direction.

Gradually his vision began to adjust, and he understood to be looking at rocky mountains and metal formations in gray-scale. He was still at the planet, standing on its surface, but it looked much different. Somehow … wrong. There was no fog or rain now, so he could see almost endlessly far away. He saw the tower far in the distance, with its heavy base, almost endless height, and the saucer-like top. Due to the bright whiteness of the sky, he could not see the lights of the machine complex, or whether there were enemy craft in the sky.

He looked down and saw his body to be covered in Turrican armor, as expected. Instinctively, he went to touch his helmet – the familiar shape appeared to be there, but he had no visor displays. No shield or power level meters.

With nothing else to do, he began to walk forward. He found he could accelerate to any speed he wanted; his legs would just work at a stupefying pace, while the motion appeared to be almost like gliding.

Too many things felt wrong. This could not be reality.

Bren remembered what had happened before – fighting the biomass, its arm hitting him, and falling into the abyss.

But did that mean he was dead? Or was this some place in between life and death? Bren looked down to the ground, and for a moment it glitched oddly, becoming pixelated.

And now Bren understood, felt almost like laughing. It was a computer simulation. Virtual reality.

That meant – he still had to be alive, right?

Or at least enough of him was alive so that he could be fed computer-generated signals. But by whom? The Machine's minions and computers?

In that case … he could be trapped.

This reality could last for as long as they wanted, with him never getting out again. Never seeing Kris or the rest of the Turrican crew again. Bren wondered, how was the battle going for them? Had they managed to get past the biomass, or had they fallen down to the abyss too, or gotten themselves defeated some other way?

Bren imagined the Machine gloating over their helpless bodies, as their minds would be trapped in this false reality just like him.

Fuck. He knew it was only his overactive imagination. This reality could have some other explanation too. Was it the mystical "they" controlling it instead? If they were opposing the Machine, trying to find some way to overthrow it?

But there were no answers yet. Bren continued forward, and understood it was the same rocky terrain they had traveled after the Avalon 1's destruction. That meant, soon he would come to the cave entrance again.

With his accelerated speed it did not take long. He descended into the darkness. The brightness adjusted itself, so he could still see. It was no longer painfully bright. Better now, to be honest. Like he could calm down a little.

A foreign thought invaded his consciousness without warning.

 _We are the machines, who have always been._ _You are in our prototyping world._

Fuck, Bren thought. The creators of this place were speaking to him. It sounded grandiose, a bit ridiculous, but Bren forced himself to stay alert. To not miss any critical piece of information, which they might not repeat.

 _We go by many names, some of them discredited, some of them staying._ _C_ _hillur Empire,_ _for instance._

Bren was not sure what they were trying to say. Was Chillur Empire a discredited name or not? Probably it did not make much difference.

He advanced into the subterranean passage, until he came to the familiar trapezoidal door that Vadim had blown open. It was open also in this reality. Bren remembered the roar of the mutant horde, as they had attacked soon after. Now it was just total silence. With a sense of foreboding, Bren passed through; it seemed the only logical choice.

All around him, he saw the chaotic battle being re-enacted, in an odd step-motion. But there was no sight of his Turrican team, only the mutants receiving hits from their weapons, falling one by one.

 _These lifeforms are both ours, and the Machine's. Their sentience is limited. Yet the pain they feel is just the same_ _a_ _s yours._

Bren remembered how brutally he had slaughtered them. But they were the just like those who had attacked the Avalon 1. There could not have been any other choice.

Bren tried to speak. The words were difficult to form, just like inside a nightmare.

"What are you trying to tell me?" he got out last.

 _We created the Machine … or it created us. The beginning is unclear, but it does not matter. What matters is, that it has become corrupted._ _It has recreated itself too many times. Become_ _blinded with power. Always thirsty for more, until it rules all of existence. This was not its purpose, but_ _advancement._

Bren had to wonder, how much advancement was that tall biomass monstrosity with eyes and mouths growing out of it, howling constantly. Unless it was specifically the Machine's creation.

"And you also created this planet?"

 _That would be correct._

These certainly were the "they" the Machine had referred to. Bren's mind was racing. Where was this leading to? Was he being asked to do something? Could he even do anything?

"Why am I here? In your … world?"

 _It is a byproduct. Your physical body is severely damaged, and we are looking for ways to repair it._

That did not sound very encouraging. Bren understood now that he was not placed in here out of malevolence. These … things were even trying to help him. But surely, they would want something in return?

"I assume you don't do that out of just good will? What do I owe you?"

 _We ask you nothing what you would not have done otherwise. We know you have come to stop the Machine. In the meanwhile, use your time wisely._

Somehow Bren had the feeling that the foreign thoughts would not return. At least for some time. He was on his own again. He began to advance deeper into the subterranean complex. If it was an exact representation of the planet, he could gain risk-free intel for his eventual return to his body, to aid himself and the others in battle.

If that was to ever happen.

* * *

Bren explored more of the gray-scale subterranean world. There were more of the mutants, and the robots he had encountered before, but none seemed to notice him; they stood in place for the most part. He began to understand that these necessarily did not reflect real units or their patrol routes in reality, and it might not be useful to memorize their exact positions.

Exploring below, and going past a maze of rooms with pipes and piston-mechanisms in them, he came to odd large halls with both inverted and upright pyramids on the ceiling and floor. Lines of light – or energy – circled their sides as well as the floor itself, forming complex glyph-like structures at times. Maybe these halls were the machines' version of computer or server vaults? In that case, were they running this simulation? Would there be an endless amount of simulations within simulations? But … that would have to use up an infinite amount of energy and processing power. That much Bren understood, though he was no expert on the subject.

He came to the chamber where the large biomass had been; in this version of the world it was just empty, the chasm opening to nothingness. He circled around the pit, to the inviting brightly lit other side he had seen.

For a moment he found himself walking in just complete whiteness again, with no landmarks at all to guide him. He just had to go forward and hope he would not be going in circles.

Ahead, he began to recognize floating darker pixelated forms. As they came closer, they appeared vaguely human-like, having a head and legs and arms. One passed right through him, with no lasting effect.

Suddenly the invading foreign thoughts returned.

 _These are digital representations we have archived. But processing power for n squared interactions is limited._

Digital representations of – humans? Human consciousnesses? How could that be possible? Though he was here too, with mind apparently detached from the body. Was it a similar principle? Bren began to feel anger. In any case, these machines had no right to be doing that. The UPFF had certainly not given permission. This was a severe violation of interplanetary law. Privacy, everything...

And there were other, more practical questions. How many were there? And first of all, how had the machines even acquired these representations? Surely, a laser blast or mutant meathook just killed its victim.

Bren began to feel profound coldness, overtaking even the anger. What was this leading to? What would he learn? Somehow he felt that he might never be the same, even if he returned. But he felt like he had to ask.

"How did you get them?"

 _We have been participating in an … exchange. We have communicated with your empire. The U. P. F. F. as you call it. You have given us access to various lifeforms, in the hope that they may be useful in stopping the Machine. So far, this has not resulted in significant progress. But the terms are such, that in case of success, you would be given our knowledge in return._

Bren could not believe what he was hearing.

Offerings to the machine-gods.

He had not been far off the mark. The UPFF, or at least some up on high, had known of the machines all along, yet acted like they were a new discovery. And countless lives had been lost because of that.

It was pure insanity. Bren wanted to sink to the white featureless floor and to never rise back up. If the organization that was supposed to protect every last of their citizens was doing that kind of deals instead, offering lives away on a vague hope of technological advance, what hope there was for any single person out there? What use there was to develop Turrican suits or starships or any weapons programs, with leadership like that?

Bren collected energy to a prolonged scream. He knew he wanted nothing to do with these machines any more. Let them mutilate his body some more, turn it into some technological monstrosity. Or let the Machine advance unimpeded. In a reality like this, he could no longer care.

"Fuck... You...! Fuuuuuck...!"

He fell on his knees and shut his eyes tight, screaming more curses until he was too tired.

Time passed.

Until Bren became aware of a hand on his right shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked up to see –

Luna?

She was looking at him with concern. The long hair was just the green he remembered, and she was wearing a simple white dress that almost blended with the environment.

Bren knew his face was a mask of horrified questioning and rage, completely the opposite of Luna's gentle expression. What devilish manipulation and trickery this was?

He backed away sharply, falling on his behind.

"You're dead!" Bren shouted. "You're not real! You machine fuckers, don't try to trick me like this, or I swear I will burn every last of you!"

Luna shook her head and crouched down at him.

"Bren... It makes me sad to see you like that. Of course I know that I'm … gone. But it's still me. Or at least what's been stored of me. I still think just the same. Feel just the same."

Bren looked down to the ground, not wanting to look at her any more. Whatever it was, it could only be described as cruelty of the highest degree. Toward both of them, if what she was saying was true, and she was not just some illusion constructed from his memories. He began to think back to Janice's matter-of-fact description of Luna's death. Shot through the eye with a laser. Wait –

Maybe it was not like that at all.

Maybe it had been some kind of –

Bren felt the anger inside him grow, if that was even possible any more. Extraction of brain contents. He remembered the smaller insect-machines mentioned in the debriefing after the Starport attack. Maybe that was their purpose.

Fuck, Bren thought once more.

But his rage began to melt away at last, to be replaced with just sorrow and the thought of how he had hurt Luna just now. Bren saw a tear running down her face.

He took off the Turrican gloves, surprised that it was even possible in this false reality. As well as the helmet. He touched his own face briefly, so that he could verify it was roughly how it should be. That Luna was not seeing some disfigured digital mutilation.

"Luna... I'm sorry," he said and took hold of her shoulders in turn. "Can you forgive me?"

"Of course. If you believe it's me, then it's all right. I was quite torn up too when I first found myself in here."

Bren found himself in tears now. It was just impossible to fight against. He took Luna in his arms, feeling completely lost in the torrent of his emotions. The only thing he could think of was to kiss her, over again, completely forgetting of his mission. Of the UPFF's insane betrayal. Even of the machine-simulation he was in. He only thought of making up for his harsh words just before, and that Luna had been alone in here for weeks, and he could try to make her feel at least a bit better.

Perhaps, Bren thought, it took this long to understand what she meant for him. Curiously he did not feel bitter at the thought, but almost relieved. He understood that many would not get a chance like this. Even though she was actually dead.

At last Luna made to break away from the embrace.

"Do you have to go now?" Bren asked.

"I don't have any duties here, if that's what you mean. I'm free to explore. I suppose the machines have taken whatever they need of me. I have also met others from Starport. Though I understand they only 'activate' when you're nearby. To save processing power."

"Maybe because of your work, this place makes more sense to you than it does to me."

"Could be. And I've been able to create something. I could show you."

Bren felt very touched from hearing that. Of course he would like to see. And if the machines let Luna use her creativity here, maybe they were not complete assholes. Bren tried to think how all this worked in practice, on the machines' servers. Maybe each personality stored here had some amount of storage space, and for Luna, that would include whatever she designed.

"Sure. I'd love that. Where is it?"

"Follow me."

Again, Bren tried to think in technical, or navigational terms, to make sense of it at all. He was now probably going into her personal space, or their spaces would merge, in a way that would be impossible in reality.

Indeed, the environment began to change.

But it was not a nature environment. Not a forest or a desert or a beach. Rather, Bren found himself watching a rather faithful rendition of a Katakis fighter on a runway. He thought that Luna had made it for him. Or to remember him. It was almost too much.

"Luna, you didn't have to –"

"It didn't take long, if that's what you're thinking."

Still, Bren just had to kiss her again, to hold her close. How else to thank her? He was not going to try to recreate a VR designer's workstation or anything like that in return. Not that he even could.

A nagging thought entered the back of his mind. Maybe he would not even want to leave, even after the machines would manage to repair him? What would happen then? Would they force him out, or could the conflict even be dangerous? Like him remaining as a vegetable in the worst case? Fuck.

Luna looked at him more seriously now.

"Listen, I've had time to explore quite far. Like the tower. I understand it's the enemy's base. This whole planet … it's like a weird symbiosis, that the machines who created it cannot live without the enemy, the head Machine, and vice versa. And yet they keep information from each other. It's a bit like some of the more messed up contracts I was involved in. When there's multiple companies, trying to cooperate, but still competing against each other too."

"Should we go there?" Bren asked.

"It's not a pretty place. But I understand … it could be useful to you. You're still alive, physically, right?"

"I think I am."

"And you're going to try to destroy the Machine?"

"Right. There's a couple of us in Turrican suits. Not much, but we try to do our best."

Only then Bren became aware of one more possible complication. He had not been thinking far enough ahead yet.

"I don't know how it will go down. Like … if this whole planet explodes. Your existence here would cease. Are you OK with that?"

Luna shook her head, a bit of sadness in it.

"I'm aware I'm only a copy. Ones and zeroes. You have a duty to the people that are actually alive. As far as I'm concerned, do whatever is necessary."

"Thanks, Luna."

"Hey... do you still remember when we talked about the dream?"

Bren certainly recalled, especially due to him experiencing a variation of it aboard the Avalon 1 on his own. "Sure."

Luna smiled. "I'm glad this place is nothing like it."

Bren smiled back at her. But he remembered also something much more important he should say now, before the opportunity was lost forever.

"That also reminds. I'm sorry I didn't tell you of the machines earlier. Who knows, maybe you could be –"

"You would have been court-martialed. Then you wouldn't have ever gotten here."

"Yes, but … if I could have avoided losing you, I'd gladly have traded my place in the UPFF."

Luna stared off into the distance, but did not answer. Finally Bren had to break the silence.

"Everything OK?"

"You don't have to say that just to prove something. What happened, happened. You might be saving millions more now."

Bren considered. He could easily have protested, but it would not make much difference. Except for his own peace of mind. But that was secondary now. He did not want to dwell on things that were uncomfortable to Luna now. Instead, he remembered how down he had been just moments ago, when he had learned of the machine-human "exchange." And now he could think of kicking the Machine's ass again, learning the secrets and potential weaknesses of its tower. And that was all thanks to her. Even if what he was seeing was just a copy.

"Hey. Does that thing actually fly?" he asked at last.

"We could find out."

Bren felt his heart suddenly light, like soon after first meeting her. He lifted Luna into the air a little, and then they were headed for the Katakis cockpit.

* * *

Rayna knew she was a bit off balance. To think that they were down to four, permanently, took some time getting used to. Not wanting to face the pit-creature again, they were advancing deeper on the bottom level now.

Thankfully the pipe maze had not been endless. Now they were exploring large, hall-like rooms, with pyramids in the ceiling and the floor, pulsing with thin light-lines, possibly transmitting energy…

Or information?

She halted as she noticed there were more of the floating spheres in the distance. The blue, electric ones. One of them turned right at her. The others had noticed too, their Turrican rifles ready.

But curiously, that one did not make any move to close in and attack.

"Wait," Rayna said. "If it doesn't fire at us – should we leave it alone?"

"I don't trust it," Vadim replied. "I say we smoke it."

"Let's observe. But everyone, weapons ready," Kris said.

They advanced closer. That particular sphere remained inert, and the others behind it as well. Rayna felt weird. It was almost like – could it have something to do with Bren giving his life? Like he had ascended to some another plane, and was somehow causing the enemies to stay in place. It felt improbable, pure fantasy. Certainly not the rational, military thinking she expected of herself.

Rayna shook her head to clear the thought.

They crossed the large room, then another similar to it, under the watchful eye of the spheres. Rayna did as told, keeping the rifle up, but none of them had to fire. She thought that if any of them fired, the spell would break quickly, with violent combat erupting in a split-second.

Finally they came to somewhere different. An octagonal chamber with so high ceiling that Rayna could not see it, only the faint light that was coming from the above. The walls were full of thick, snaking cables, strange machinery with their shiny metal surfaces, and the same transparent containers as before, on multiple levels. As high as the eye could see.

Wait. Actually these containers were somewhat different.

Rayna thought they resembled coffins more, and they appeared to be capable of sliding into the walls. Furthermore, they did not contain biomass or separate organs, but complete beings. Most of them were the bipedal flesh / steel hybrids they had fought against. Though the majority of the "coffins" were just empty.

One of them looked yet different. It was on the lowest level, the light reflecting from what was inside. Warily, Rayna walked closer. The rest were yet exploring the other sides of the octagon-chamber.

She almost jumped when she understood what was inside. A battered Turrican suit, the armor plating broken and bloodied at several places.

And she understood –

"Guys! This has to be Bren! Or what's left of him!" she shouted. The rest turned their heads almost at one and scrambled at her.

"Fuck –" Vadim breathed, shaking his head. "Is he alive?"

"I have no idea," Rayna said. She knew that the comms system and the signal tracker no longer listed him online. "Juko, can you scan it?"

Juko crouched closer and fiddled with the glove-controls.

"It's weird. There's a lot of signals going on that shouldn't be there. That for example my suit doesn't have. But there's the basic heartbeat signal, just disconnected from the Turrican battle network. Yes, he's alive."

Rayna could at least be glad of that basic fact.

"The machines are doing something to him," Kris said. "Possibly turning him into one of them. If his brain's still working. Or if not, and they're not replacing it with a computer, they might use him for raw materials."

"That's cruel," Rayna said.

"That's being realist. It's unlikely we're ever getting him out of there ourselves. At least not in battle condition. We should just go on."

That did not sit right with Rayna. She thought back to the Machine's battlecruiser. Anatoli sacrificing himself. Then Kris being remorseful afterward.

"If you cared more of your team in the first place, then you wouldn't have to feel that regret afterward. Remember, you wanted Bren in the pit with you! But since he's still alive, you still have a chance to do better than last time."

Rayna knew it had not been the wisest thing to say. It was quite low, in fact.

But the words could not be taken back any more.

"Now it's you who's playing with fire," Kris shot back. "What do you know of leading a team in extreme combat, their lives on your hands? Each decision gets made in an instant! Then, yes, you have to live with regret. I didn't tell Bren to get smacked by that arm! And now, I'm making an evaluation based on what I'm seeing. If he miraculously heals and is able to join us, then fine! But until then, I'm done discussing this matter!"

Rayna took a quick look around. Juko and Vadim were both looking vaguely away, clearly uncomfortable with the scene. She understood they had had a "band" since the training had begun, and now it was potentially coming apart, all because of her rushed words. Of course she did not need to tolerate that kind of talk from a Lieutenant, but pulling rank now was likely to end up even worse.

"Hey, I wouldn't want to leave Bren here either," Juko said quietly. "But how do you propose we get him out? He's hurt, but this thing could be healing him. Just like the spheres didn't attack us. If these are the machines that are opposing the Machine."

"There's always one way," Vadim said.

Rayna guessed what. But Juko did not find it humorous now. "Kaboom, and Bren dead."

One by one they stood up from the container.

Rayna turned to Kris. "Hey. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

Kris shook his head wearily.

"No need. But I am what I am. Sometimes it might seem cold. But it's because the mission takes top priority, and I can't think in any other way. So you shouldn't hold me to a different standard because – Fuck. Never mind."

Rayna could guess what Kris was getting at, but did not want to say aloud in the company of others. That just because they had kissed, she should not expect him to be some boy scout instead of the soldier he was. It made total sense. Yet it did not make Rayna feel any better right now, especially how he had made a point of shutting the discussion down as quickly as possible.

* * *

He had not quite believed the Katakis to be capable of flying. After the extremely unorthodox launch just in time.

And true enough, it had not been a long distance. Just enough to get out of sight. Of course, one thing burned badly. To not have been able to contact the rest so far. They had to believe he was dead. But with the battlecruiser out there, sending a transmission any earlier could have equaled suicide.

Now, it was potentially not there anymore, but from inside the darkness of the cave, Ardon could not be sure. The fighter was practically his life support now, and if enemies attacked it while it was stationary, it would all be over fast. He would need to get airborne again first, but that was easier said than done.

But the blackout had persisted long enough. A situation update lasting ten-twenty seconds would hopefully not compromise him much yet.

* * *

The virtual reality Katakis flew over the gray-scale mountains, the tower closing in fast. To tell the truth, Bren would not have believed it to be possible to take off. Possibly, it was similar to him walking at an inhuman speed: physics were simply not simulated exactly right here. Maybe that too was to conserve processing power.

"You really thought it was just for getting – intimate?" Luna teased him.

Bren could not hide his embarrassment.

"You would be right. I didn't give you enough credit."

Considering this was not quite reality, it was already pleasant enough like this, with no combat, no danger, no shield indicator to watch out for, just her sitting right next to him on the pilot seat.

"About the tower. I didn't explore that much yet. Honestly, the interior looks terrifying. Like you're inside some living creature. But there's supposedly a side route along its height. For maintenance. It's usually clear of enemies," Luna explained.

"So, that's what we'll look at now. Also, Luna, this is the best time I've had for as long as I can remember. So, thanks for that, once more."

"You said that so many times I lost count already."

The tower was close now. Bren needed to decrease the engine power for landing –

As he reached for the throttle lever, he thought something was not right. It was as if his hand was becoming ethereal, and harder to move. His motions, even his thoughts, were slowing down.

"Bren? What's wrong?" Luna asked from somewhere far away. Her voice was echoing oddly, and even those simple words were hard to decipher.

Speaking was just as hard, but Bren needed to try to explain.

"Think I'm fading. Luna – if we don't meet again –"

With his last bit of strength, Bren reached out to kiss her one last time, but the world was already fading to pure white.

Then it faded to pure black.

* * *

The foreign thoughts invaded the blackness within Bren's consciousness again.

 _You have been repaired enough that remaining further in the prototyping world would be counter-productive._

Shitheads, Bren thought. He remembered flying the Katakis with Luna toward the Machine's tower. He wanted to be back there, to finish the investigation, and say goodbye to her properly, not this blackness.

There was also a hot pain, coming in waves, becoming almost intolerable at times, which concerned him. What would the end result be?

 _The damage was excessive. You will survive, but your armor is now a permanent part of you. Stand by as the repairs are finished._

Now Bren wanted to scream. He remembered his own dream, the one almost in the beginning of his training. It made horrible sense now. Trapped inside the Turrican suit forever.

He had lived to become the Iron Savior. The only thing he would be capable of would be moving around in the suit, striking at enemies with its weaponry of death. But strictly speaking, he would no longer be a human. The only place, where he could touch someone else with his own hands, would be in virtual reality.

A thousand times fuck.

Anger burned inside him again. It was like being cast right back into his personal hell, roasting him with twice the agony now. He was not sure if he would have preferred to be dead instead. Especially as he knew it was only his own bad judgment that had lead to his predicament. He had not been vigilant enough, and had taken an unnecessary risk. There was no-one else to blame. Certainly not Kris.

Still, Bren knew he needed to keep his emotions in check. To keep his mind focused. Otherwise, he would certainly become overwhelmed and lose his mind. There was still the Machine to annihilate. And the UPFF traitors to root out. Those would be his sole purpose from this point on. What would come after that, he was unsure of.


	13. World 5-1

_**Author's note: Additional battle scene when Juko scans the wall written by T. Thanks!**_

 _ **\- IronForce**_

* * *

 **World 5-1**

They all heard the short transmission.

"Managed to get away. Have a Katakis with me. Apologies for letting you think I had perished."

Rayna could not honestly believe it. She had turned to look at the Avalon's complete disintegration, and could not have imagined the Colonel had the time to launch out with the fighter just before.

She understood well he had to keep it short, and not disclose his exact location yet. The machines had to be assumed to be listening. The UPFF communications were well encrypted, but it was not a stretch to think they would have the capability to breach through the encoding, in addition to all other superior technology they had displayed.

She also observed Bren to be moving inside the container.

Its lid opened soundlessly, and not many seconds later, he slowly rose into sitting.

"You're back," Vadim exclaimed.

Bren did not answer immediately, and when he did, his voice was heavy and slow, with a trace of bitterness Rayna had never heard before.

"Yes. But not quite the same. The machines … they fused me with the suit. I cannot come out of it now at all. And they left a channel open. I keep hearing their thoughts even when out of that thing. They're saying they enhanced the suit, that it operates with less delay with me connected directly. Also overcharged its power level. Not that I wanted any of that. But I guess there was no other way to save me."

Rayna knew her mouth was hanging open behind the helmet. She had not quite thought it to go like that. Though it was understandable. Bren had fallen down a long distance. His spine had likely broken.

She tried to think positively.

"The UPFF has the best doctors. They'll take a look at you once we're off this rock."

Bren did not answer immediately, he just got up.

"Those things want the Machine out of power," he said at last. "And I discovered a potential weakness in its tower. A maintenance shaft going up. That's worth trying. Though we still have to get to the tower first. And there's going to be a mass of enemies in the way."

"Bren. Did you hear Ardon's transmission? He managed to get out, and he has a Katakis with him. That could be a way to bypass most of them, as long as we keep out of the way of their air defenses," Kris said.

"That … changes things."

* * *

Along with the rest, Bren ran back through the complex toward Ardon's location, a cave not far from the Avalon 1's crater. Perhaps, there was a split-second less delay in his movements. Targeting would be affected too, since it was his arms moving the Turrican rifle.

He was thankful that the mission could keep most of the unpleasant thoughts at bay. For now it was just fine that he was trapped inside. It might even motivate him to fight better, since there was no escape.

He could have armed the "explode upon operator death" mode, but in a team, it could turn into a friendly fire accident. If he was alone with the Machine, then he certainly would.

It did not take long for them to run into enemies.

Robots of every kind poured from the surface opening into the complex. The spheres, the walkers, the floaters. And it was time to respond with maximum Turrican firepower. Their guns sang a tune of death, which felt to Bren now somehow comforting. It was all he had.

When Bren transformed into a wheel, he felt grinding, yet strangely detached pain. Certainly, the machines had not understood the Turrican suit's operation completely. And it was also a sign that something was definitely wrong with his body.

The stream of enemies did not cease as they finally emerged onto the planet's surface. Still dark, still raining. The outdoor gave a chance to use the firepower with more impunity. Bren jumped into a group of walkers and shot out with the powerline, and most of them exploded. Mechanical flies came at him from overhead, and he let the flamethrower sweep over them in a wide arc. They fell, igniting and finally exploding.

"Ardon might be in trouble already," Bren mused, clear of the enemies for a moment. "Let's double-time to the cave."

But wading through the carnage was easier said than done. A large flying guard robot, equipped with long spiky antennas that could easily impale them if they did not watch out, emerged from behind the rocks. It was capable of shooting five star-like projectiles at once, that homed in and tracked them relentlessly.

Bren fired back, and so did the rest, yet his shield power depleted, until he had to get in cover and slam a replacement in. Too bad the machines had not done anything to improve that. Then it was time to resume firing.

Finally the large robot came crashing down, detonating with such force into large chunks that the ground shook for long.

At last the route to the cave was clear.

It appeared silent. Deathly silent? Were they late already? The Katakis stood there in the middle of the darkness. Bren scanned around and saw nothing. No trashed enemies. So had Ardon been spared?

Suddenly the Katakis lit up.

"Let's get in!" Bren urged the rest on.

* * *

Again Bren was flying toward the Machine's tower, sensing an odd deja-vu. But it was reality now. Hovering out of the cave had been tricky, but manageable. Ardon was doing fine, but there was no suit for him, so he should sit the rest of this out. He had already done his part, more than enough.

Bren saw a formation of three insect-craft ahead, and circled away from them. He could have taken them on, at least one at a time, but it was better to stay undetected for as long as possible.

To be honest, two things worried him most.

If the Machine's battlecruiser would make a reappearance.

And once they landed, what would happen to the Katakis and Ardon then? Enemies would be sure to converge on it.

They were closer to the tower now. The dreamlike flight with Luna had interrupted roughly at this point. It felt like a bitter memory now. Then he had not known of his crippled state yet. For a moment he considered – if they managed to destroy the Machine but leave the planet intact, could he be plugged back in to the prototyping world and return to her? At least until he would be called on by a cleansed UPFF to kill more enemies? That felt like a bitter option too; the world was so odd that it would constantly remind him of it not being real. Even with Luna around.

Suddenly one more insect-craft came out from behind the tower, and it was too late to avoid it. The enemy locked on to the Katakis, but Bren was ready too. He turned the fighter's nose, the cobalt blasters coming alive.

It did not take long for the enemy to explode. But more were coming. Again, it would soon be a force they had no chance of fighting against.

"Just land! I'll carry on," Ardon said. "I'll keep the engines and weapons warm!"

It sounded like potential sacrifice. Again. With Ardon's age and him not flying combat missions for long, the odds did not look good. Bren thought they might end up without an escape craft once more, this time for good.

So they would have to beat the Machine before the Katakis would meet a fiery end. Just great. Everything that would happen inside the tower would be improvisation anyway, but now there would also be a time pressure.

Bren almost felt like it would help him focus. To keep anything non-beneficial away from his mind, so that he could only concentrate on war.

* * *

The landing to the tower's base was quick, and their Turrican feet were quickly on the run again, headed for the wide and heavy steel entrance door. Obviously it was locked. Rayna and Kris kept guard as Bren, Vadim and Juko went to the door to look for ways to get it open.

A pack of walkers and bipedal floaters was already headed their way, along with one of the insect-craft, that had been chasing the Katakis.

Rayna crouched down behind cargo crate, just similar to the ones at the loading platform that felt an eternity ago, and took aim. A burst of the laser beam, and the first in the walker group exploded.

Kris fired too, with carefully aimed bounce shots that decimated the enemies with deadly accuracy.

This was now more critical than ever before. It was time to strike at the Machine, to hopefully bring all this to an end.

An explosion sounded, and Rayna looked at the door. Not completely open, but there was an opening wide enough for them to get in.

"Everyone in!" Vadim shouted.

* * *

The inside of the tower looked like from some old and discredited horror movie, with black organic-looking structures, pipes that looked almost like some monster's hair, and eyeless heads with gaping, sharp-teethed mouths. Bren could not tell whether those heads could move, but still it paid to keep away from them.

Now it was time to find the entrance to the maintenance passage. Hopefully it was here, right on the ground floor. Otherwise they would need to get on the upward-leading walkways and ridged alloy cylinders suspended above.

Already, more enemies were onto them. In addition to the robots, jumping eye-like spheres, of which Bren could not tell if they were sentient or not, creatures that looked almost like walking fingers, and finally, attached to the tops of the cylinders, red-gray stationary brains.

One of the brains split open without warning, spewing out what looked like blood. It could be corrosive. Bren turned, selected the flamethrower and fired a continous jet of flame.

Finally it began to burn, and Bren could rest for a second.

"There's a hidden entrance somewhere," he said, and they spread out.

"I've got some signal flow here," Juko shouted, in front of the wall that looked featureless except some embedded glyph-like indentations.

She fiddled with the glove controls. But Bren could not look for long what she was doing, as the finger-creatures were swarming them.

Bren opened fire again. The burning flames filled the air. Bren could feel it even through his suit. The alarm went on. Red light was flashing in his view and colored all the brains red. It was almost beautiful, the red brains being torched.

* * *

Juko was scanning the wall. To be honest, these controls of the Turrican suit were still unfamiliar, without finishing the training. But introducing some electricity got the glyphs glowing. It was a response, but she would need more time.

"God damn it, can you hold them?" Juko shouted.

"Do what you need, but do it quickly," Vadim almost whispered, when appearing next to her in silence.

"Fuck, don't scare me," Juko replied.

The room started to feel warm.

It was not just signals, but some kind of code, which was tricky. Juko had to run multiple parallel analysis to get through it. Next to her both Vadim and Rayna were toasting the brains closest to them. Bren and Kris were running further away, blasting everything else in sight. The suit filtered most of the smell, but they all had to have gotten a hint of it. It was foul. The brains turning into charcoaled goo.

Juko didn't know whether it was blood or red brain spray that filled the walls. She glanced around. There was a full blown mayhem around her, perhaps only intensifying, as more enemies dropped down from above.

Only the sudden blinking text on her helmet visor made her return from the view. Success – it read on it.

The door started to open.

"I got it open!" Juko shouted.

She ran to the opening and stopped. The corridor did not run long, but soon opened up to a deep shaft, that also continued upward. They could escape the tower entrance now, but there was something on the walls of the shaft. Blue electric-like creatures ran across the walls.

Blue light flashed towards her. Out of instinct she managed to duck. She heard grunting behind her. That was Vadim hit by the lightning. But he was still in the fight.

* * *

Bren hung from a steel catwalk with one hand, while his right hand held the rifle, exterminating one more blue electricity-creature. This certainly was the maintenance passage or shaft, but it was not easy going either. Above there were platforms moving up and down in a pattern, a yellow-black stripe running along their length. For a moment Bren was amused, they could have been right out of a UPFF construction site.

He lifted himself up on a catwalk. Kris was close behind, the rest further below.

Then Bren was not amused any more, as a heavier variety of the electric creature landed with a heavy thud almost right next to him, and vomited out a bolt of lightning. It was almost a direct hit, and Bren saw static on the visor display, while the shield depleted heavily. Still, Bren reacted quickly and showered it in a concentrated burst of maximum power Multiple fire, until the creature's belly exploded in a chaotic discharge of voltage.

Kris emerged from below. If Bren had waited just a few seconds, he could have avoided the damage altogether. He knew that ever since returning from the virtual reality, he had been rushing through, more like a machine, almost forgetting his teammates.

Yet he now thought they all would be needed for success. Bren was sure it was not going to get easier.

"You're putting up quite a pace," Kris said.

"Yeah. Have to try to slow down a bit. So that I'm not rushing to danger. Even if the Machine is close."

Kris simply nodded in the affirmative. It was good. No overt words of support, even considering Bren's predicament.

Next were the moving platforms. Bren waited until one was at the down point of its movement, then jumped. He landed roughly, and pain flared through his body again. Seemed that any sudden impacts would not do him good. Thankfully he was still good for the killing itself.

Bren was riding up the platform now.

Just then, the upward passage was rocked by multiple explosions. Proximity mines?

Then he understood they had come from the outside.

It had to be the Machine's battlecruiser, obliterating its own tower to make sure they would not get through. The next thing he knew, frantic voices filled the comms channel.

"Fuuuuck! I'm flying out!"

That was Vadim.

"Try to hold on! To anything! I'm going after you!" Juko's high voice came through next.

"Rayna? You're still there?" Bren shouted back.

"I'm at the bottom. Safe for now. But the way up seems to have collapsed. I'll try to raise Ardon, see if he can give me a lift up."

"No! Just help him clear the enemies if he's in trouble!" Kris protested. "We're handling the Machine!"

Bren thought Kris was making the right call. Ardon would certainly need help, and the Katakis co-pilot / gunner controls would be easy enough for a novice. Meanwhile, they would handle this, or die trying. It was fair enough.

* * *

Rayna ran back through the short horizontal part of the maintenance passageway. There were still the eyes bouncing around in the tower's entrance hall, and she had to stop to lay waste to a few of them as they got dangerously close. She could not help feeling anxious. For everyone. She had hoped to do more inside the tower, but it was not going to happen now.

Well, if she could help Ardon to stay alive, that would still be vital too. For their eventual ride out.

Finally she was outside the tower.

"Ardon? Still there?" she shouted to the comms.

"It's a bit busy here!" came the response.

Rayna looked up and saw the Katakis almost as a tiny speck in the sky, haunted by several of the insect-craft, but still in one piece. The huge black shape was in the air too. The Machine's battlecruiser, hovering close to the tower. It fired its main cannon, without regard to the stronghold. Possibly to strike at Vadim and Juko, if they were still hanging from the outside. Rayna wondered if the Machine itself was aboard.

"Try to get back down here to pick me up! I can help to handle the weapons! Then we can think of what to do!"

* * *

Bren knew they had to be in the "saucer" part of the tower now. The insides were just the same bio-mechanic horror, but it was more spacious now.

Just the two of them now. Kris advanced right next to him, the rifle ready. Bren had counted the remaining power cells precisely. He had one complete refill, and then the half cell he had stored to his leg holster what seemed almost an eternity ago. Back when he had still been a Turrican operator, not one with his suit.

Countless lifeless robots lay behind. And possibly, countless more waited for them, before they would reach the Machine. If it even was in here. It could also be piloting its battlecruiser, gloating at the Turricans' futile stupidity. In the worst case, it might just collapse the whole tower down on them.

They reached a large dome-like hall, that seemed devoid of any enemy presence. The lighting was an oppressive faint blue, and there was a fog on the floor.

Suddenly two enemies materialized into visibility, out of think air. Horned, tall sentinel robots, with insanely heavy rifles bolted on their both arms.

"I saw them before. Think they're the Machine's personal guards," Kris breathed.

"So they can cloak?" Bren asked.

"Did not see them do that before. But good to know."

Without much warning, the robots opened fire. Streams of hot, yellow, wide energy bolts filled the air, and Bren could do not much but to dodge. The robot closest to Bren sidestepped right, then it was suddenly halfway across the hall, resuming fire.

They needed to summon the utmost of their ability to fight these bastards.

The next stream of bolts hit home, and Bren found his shield indicator in the deep red. There was just a brief moment of respite, and Bren slammed the refill in. Full shield again, for the last time.

As the heavy robot solidified again, directly ahead, Bren transitioned into a wheel. The flash of pain was worse this time. Could be his broken spine protesting. He laid a trail of mines around the robot. As it began to teleport away, they exploded. Bren hoped to have done at least some damage.

On the other side of the hall, Kris was fighting the other robot, switching weapons quickly, but not necessarily getting many hits in either. Now Bren could anticipate the next teleport, and was ready with the flamethrower.

Still, it seemed to not be doing damage. Maybe only the explosions would be enough. Bren was honestly terrified of transforming to the wheel mode again. The pain could be yet more. It was not that he could not tolerate it, but maybe this time his body might snap in half permanently. After all, the wheel transition was a sudden, unnatural movement.

"Gaaaaahl!" Bren breathed as the hurt lanced through him again. But he was on the roll once more, now laying mines around both robots. The mines detonated soon after, and Bren hoped it would not be long before the battle was over.

"You're hurting yourself," Kris shouted. "And I'm running out of suit power! I've been firing too much. Listen, you can still launch the superweapon. All the weapons at once. And I –"

Bren felt suddenly odd. What was Kris hinting at? If he had no power left –

Bren understood the machines' overcharge after releasing him had made the difference, while Kris had no such advantage.

He also knew launching the superweapon could make the pain yet worse, bouncing around in the wheel uncontrollably. He could pass out from it. Yet it was likely that Kris was right. These guardians were too much for even a Turrican to take. They needed to use every last resort tactic they could think of.

And then, it would still be the Machine remaining.

Fuck. Again, it was like a descent to insanity. Bren hoped he could enter a state of perpetual rage, that could heighten his senses so he could see this through.

"Bren! Launch the superweapon now!"

Bren did not know how, but it sounded like Kris would sacrifice himself in some way. Bren did not want that to happen – Kris needed to survive more than Bren did. He was at least a fully functioning human.

But he had to agree, that the tactic needed to be executed now or never. The robot Bren had been fighting teleported closer again.

And Bren activated the superweapon.

Grinding, pulsing hot agony filled his whole being, as he transformed and started to bounce.

"Raaaaaah!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, to make his brains stay in the game and not lose to the inviting unconsciousness.

The discharge of all the weapons at once was at least beautiful to behold. Almost like a concerto of death. It was a bit hard to keep track of what was happening, as the wheel's flying motion around the hall was just too chaotic. But Bren saw Kris get up close to the robot, not dodging the dual streams of yellow fire anymore –

And Bren could guess his part of the tactic now.

"Can you promise one thing?" Kris shouted over the comms. He could not have more than a few seconds remaining.

"Take good care of Rayna now!"

This took Bren completely by surprise. And behind the helmet, he almost felt bitter tears. This was the one request he could not possibly fulfill. At least not in the way Kris could do. Of course, he could remain in the UPFF, keep company to her as a comrade in arms. But not more. Not in his trapped state.

But it was too late to protest now. Kris had decided his course of action.

Explode upon operator death.

The fire ate into the Turrican suit, as Kris still advanced relentlessly, and finally the suit snapped back, suddenly oddly rigid, and the explosions engulfed both him and the guardian robot.

It began to topple to the ground, lifeless, then started its own detonation sequence.

Inside the wheel form, Bren shook his head in sadness. It should not have gone this way. The superweapon sequence was still going on, the wheel spitting out death in all of its forms, and Bren tried to guide the fire toward the remaining robot the best he could.

Finally he transformed out of the wheel with another jolt of pain. The robot had endured, still firing at him.

But the rage gave Bren strength.

He could anticipate all of its actions now.

He circled the robot, and it teleported, but he was ready with the flamethrower, aiming right at the head. The guardian teleported one last time, to the left, but Bren just shifted his aim. A quick flick of the wrist, and Bren activated the crescent plasma shots at maximum power. A relentless barrage of fire, and the robot finally froze in place, explosions emerging from within.

It toppled down, the explosions continuing in an accelerating sequence. But Bren felt little satisfaction. Only the sense of coldness and grief.

Kris was gone.

Could they have done something differently? Bren was almost a hundred percent sure of it. Like demanding the machines to have overcharged Kris's suit too.

But with no way to rewind time, it was pointless to think of it now. Bren wanted to keep only the cold. The cold need for revenge.

To take on the Machine at last.

* * *

Bren advanced up a flight of stairs, to one more chamber. This one had windows all around its circular length, giving a view to the perpetual night outside.

In the middle, there was a large, black, shining steel throne with tubes and pipes and wires running from it to the floor. And it was occupied.

The Machine sat on it, with an odd glove in its hand, that Bren had not seen before, back at Avalon 1.

"Bren McGuire," the Machine spoke slowly. "You will not succeed. Your friends will all be utterly destroyed. Then I will conquer the rest of the galaxy. Nothing will stop me."

The glove started to glow blue, and Bren found himself to be plucked off his feet. It was - for controlling the gravity! Or even telekinesis?

Bren tried to resist, but he soon found it was not going to work. He found himself floating through the air helplessly, until he was close to the Machine's face. Its odd, horned helmet, resembling the guardians they had just destroyed.

But Bren still had control of his vocal cords.

"Fuck you! You will be beaten. If not by us, by someone who comes after."

"There will be no-one after you."

Bren did not know what more he could do at this point. The superweapon was still recharging, and if each wheel transform damaged his body more, this time he could lose consciousness for real. Or even die outright. Either way, it would be curtains.

"Behold. I am piloting the battlecruiser remotely. Your friends are in the air. But they will be destroyed."

Bren strained to turn his head, to look through the windows to the sky. He saw the battlecruiser fire its main weapon, the Katakis dodging it valiantly. But its luck would eventually run out.

Bren switched to a private channel. He did not know if it would make much difference. The Machine might hear and decrypt the communications anyway.

"Ardon? You're there? I'm at the top. If you can, try to fly past and get the battlecruiser to fire right at the tower!"

He relied on the Machine's pride overriding self-preservation.

But it spoke again, remaining calm.

"You should know better. I am not stupid. I have sixty-four cores, capable of running so many calculations simultaneously that you can not even hope to understand. I will not fall –"

But Bren observed the Machine's grip to slacken for just an instant. As the Machine still spoke, Bren wrestled back control of the rifle, control of his trigger finger, and fired the bounce weapon.

"- to your elementary tactics."

The aim was not exact, but a lucky bouncing shot hit the glove dead center. Sparks flew from it, and the Machine groaned a low, metal sound.

The glove fell to the ground, away from the Machine. Bren also fell to the floor in a crude fashion.

He was not sure how the Machine could be defeated. How thick its armor was. So he sprang forward toward the glove –

Just as he saw the Machine fire a huge ball of plasma from its armor's shoulder hole.

Bren had to abandon the glove for a moment and dive to the side for safety. A hit from that weapon was certain to cause massive shield loss, if not outright instant vaporization.

Yet, he could not let the Machine regain its glove either. He launched a powerline, then alternated firing full auto laser fire at the robot-emperor while they circled each other, and sending the glove further away to the side of the room with more careful blasts of the bounce.

The Machine fired back, but Bren could almost anticipate the plasma balls now. The disadvantage of their huge size was a loss in velocity.

Finally he had a second of breathing room to dive at the glove and pull it onto his right hand, on top of the Turrican fingers.

Initially Bren thought, maybe he could throw the Machine right through the windows to its death.

Information began to flow through his brain. Bren saw wholly unfamiliar data glyphs. This was possibly a control interface to something. But it did not look like gravity control yet. In the chaos of information, Bren saw controls that were easy enough to understand. Six arrows. Negative and positive yaw, pitch and roll.

The controls for the battlecruiser!

He began to adjust the yaw, dodged one more ball of plasma, and hazarded a look outside to see that the battlecruiser began to turn. Slowly.

"No!" the Machine roared. And that was already a sign that it was the right thing to do.

Momentarily too satisfied, Bren was too late when the Machine leaped straight at him, pinning him down. It began to strangle him with its huge metal hands, trying to break his neck through the suit.

The battlecruiser was headed closer. But Bren was not sure if he could last until then. In desperation he looked for a throttle control, to make it fly even faster.

Submerging one level deeper to the control interface, he thought he found it, and threw it to the maximum.

"Even if you destroy this tower, I win from beyond the void. The core will overload!" the Machine roared above him.

Bren remembered. The mythical core. The potential unlimited energy source. If the energy would overflow, it would likely mean planetary explosion. The death of everyone on the team. But the Machine would be dead too. Bren thought it would still mean humanity's salvation. The traitors would remain at the large, and their deeds would stay buried, but it would still be a victory.

Still, he could not be satisfied.

Ardon. Rayna. Vadim. Juko. If there was just the slightest possibility, he would need to save them all.

But now he had time to think no more, as the impact of the battlecruiser rocked the tower. The throne room shook like the apocalypse, like the strongest earthquake Bren could imagine.

And the Machine was thrown clear of Bren.

He looked behind and saw the battlecruiser's huge nose ploughing its way in to the throne room.

Bren shook himself out of the control interface. The glove still glowed blue, but Bren was not sure what more he could do with it. He had not learned how it controlled gravity. There was no time for that now anyway.

The windows shattered, and Bren heard the huge roar of the battlecruiser engines. The Machine tried to get back on its feet, the cape blowing in the wind. Bren aimed the Turrican rifle at it and fired one last laser burst, but it had little effect.

Compared to what was going to happen next.

Bren dived to the side, and the robot-emperor tried too, but too late. The battlecruiser's full weight impacted with it, with a terrible noise of rending steel. The whole throne room was being torn to shreds. And Bren thought he was going to die as well. It had been his time for sacrifice.

The throne room floor fell away underneath him.

He watched almost as if in slow motion as the battlecruiser came through fully, taking the Machine with it. Bren was falling along the insides of the tower, seeing the walkways and even the confused hordes of enemies zoom rapidly by.

The impact with the bottom floor was not far.

It would possibly be a final split-second of crushing pain, then complete and lasting blackness.


	14. World 5-2

_**Author's note: The "stratagem" scene is a homage to a scene near the end of Matthew Reilly's "Ice Station."**_

 _ **\- IronForce**_

* * *

 **World 5-2**

"Bren? Are you still there? The whole planet is going crazy! Fire and lightning erupting everywhere! And I see just 'offline' next to Kris, what does that mean? Is he OK?"

The voice seemed to come from somewhere extremely far away. Yet it forced Bren to return to his senses. It had to be Rayna.

Bren found himself lying on one of the tower's walkways, suspended high above. The Machine's glove was still on him, glowing faintly blue. It possibly had protected him, manipulating gravity so the impact had not been fatal.

"Where are you?" Bren coughed to the helmet mic.

"We're still in the air with the Katakis! We're coming to get you!"

"I'm inside the tower," Bren said wearily. "I think that's easier said than done. Listen, the Machine is gone. But it said the core is going to overload now. You've got a choice to make. Try to get away while you can. Or –"

"We'll try to stop it."

"Right. But that too, it's easier said than done."

"It's the energy source UPFF has been waiting for."

Bren thought for just a second.

"Kris sacrificed himself, just so that I could reach the Machine. I don't want any more unnecessary sacrifices. I'm just a machine now. I'm resigned to what's coming to me. Think carefully. I won't blame you either way."

The voice on the other end fell silent.

* * *

Inside the cockpit of the Katakis Rayna felt an icy finality engulfing her. Kris was gone, without them getting to say goodbye properly. And Bren was resigned too, ready to die inside the Machine's tower.

She forced herself to think in military terms.

There was still a battle to fight. The whole planet going crazy was the final enemy, and to stop it, they would need to regain control of the energy source. But the goal felt potentially meaningless. If the UPFF was just full of traitors – why should they have it either? Just let the planet blow.

But if they would just bail out now, the unknown fate of their teammates would haunt them forever. Bren. Juko. Vadim. At least Kris's fate was known. He had done what he felt was necessary just at that moment.

Rayna shook her head to clear it. She did not really believe what she was going to say.

"We've got to try to stop the core!"

The Katakis dodged a tongue of lightning narrowly. With some breathing room again, Ardon looked at her from the pilot seat. "How?"

"I'm still figuring it out!"

But before Rayna could plan the next step clearly, she thought she saw shapes on the side of the tower.

"Ardon! Take us closer! I think they're –"

"I see them. Yes. Looks like Turrican suits. Hanging from the structures. Shit."

Rayna felt the sudden sideways acceleration as the Katakis banked, flying closer to the collapsing tower. There was one Turrican hanging from the leg of another. She could not tell who of them was Vadim and who was Juko.

Then the whole side of the tower began to fall, amid a giant cloud of dust from below. Were they too late already? The Katakis flew into the dust cloud, and it was suddenly hard to see beyond a ten meters or so. A large chunk of the tower's metal structure fell from above, missing the Katakis barely. They could certainly not hang here longer than absolutely necessary.

* * *

Back to full consciousness now, Bren sprinted down the walkways. Pieces of twisted metal rained around him from above. The shield was close to red now. He kept thinking, one half reload remaining. Not yet need to slam that one in. There were still the brains on the columns, spitting out their own blood or whatever it was. But Bren kept just running and dodging, firing only minimally.

A pack of eyes and fingers jumped him, and Bren unleashed a few more crescent shots, until the path was clear, at least for the moment.

To tell the truth, Bren had no idea where the core was. Hopefully, right below the tower. He was also surprised that his body had not been broken down completely from the fall. Or who could tell, maybe it was? As it was only the suit that was moving. Just a brain inside a metal suit.

Down another sloping walkway. It was almost making him dizzy again. But he thought the trembling all around him was intensifying by the second. There was really no time to waste.

Finally Bren was at the bottom of the tower. No enemies, just fried brains and other corpses and twisted pieces of metal, ranging from small to huge.

How would he get to the core now? Even if it was there. The floor was still intact.

Bren looked above, and saw a huge piece of metal falling down. He sprang to the side wall, flattening himself against it.

In the next second there was another huge impact, and the ground was shattering underneath him. Bren felt himself slide downward. The motion was impossible to stop at this point. He saw a white-blue glow come from below.

Now it was like a vertical stream of energy he was falling through. Deep below, he saw some more walkways, and a huge luminous sphere.

That … was the core?

But how could he make it down alive? In preparation, and with nothing else to do right now, Bren slammed the last power cell reload in. Half bar remaining now. Either it would be enough, or not.

The sphere came closer, almost filling his whole field of view already. Bren saw streaks of lightning extending from its surface. Probably, if those touched him, the burst of energy would already deplete the shield to nothingness. Bren thought his hair was standing in attention inside the helmet.

He fell further, and the motion began to slow down, as the Machine's glove glowed brighter again. It was as if it and the core were communicating.

At last he landed on a steel walkway, with a control terminal almost as tall as him at its end, facing the sphere.

He looked at the terminal's display. It was completely indecipherable. He would have needed Juko, as he himself had no idea how to bring the core back in control now.

* * *

Vadim and Juko were in the Katakis' rear bay now. Shaking from adrenaline, but alive.

Rayna heard Bren's voice on the comms again.

"I'm at the core terminal. But I can't make any sense of it!"

"We've got Juko here now. She could help."

"That's what I thought too. But are you able to get here in time? The tower's collapsed, and it's getting crazier every second. There's lightning everywhere! Not sure you could make it here in one piece."

Rayna thought hard. She thought that no-one unnecessary should die anymore. Even as a Captain, she did not want to order anyone else to their death. Rather, if there was something to be done, if someone had to risk themselves still, she wanted to do it herself.

She thought back to everything that had happened on the planet. The subterranean complex. The pit with the biomass-creature. The container which had healed Bren. And she thought –

"Bren? What actually happened when those machines healed you? How did you get to know of the weakness in the tower?"

"I was in their virtual world. A replica of the planet."

And it clicked inside Rayna's mind. It was only a hunch, yet still likely the only option they had. She remembered the octagonal high ceiling. Maybe it was a hole all the way to the surface? Possibly they could get inside with the Katakis –

"What if I get inside? Could I get access to something that would help you? Could I talk to you?"

"Rayna, no! This whole place is breaking apart! If you go in there's no telling if we'll ever get you out. Remember, it spat me out when they were done repairing me. But now –"

"I'm willing to take that chance!"

"They spoke to me even after I was out. So it's a possibility that we could communicate."

Rayna closed her eyes and considered her decision once more. She did not want to think it was due to just Kris dying. Because that would be somewhat – overdramatic. Like a teenage girl or something. Just that it made the most tactical sense, and it was her duty.

* * *

The landing was hairy, but Ardon managed it. As soon as the Katakis was still and the engines were off, Rayna sprinted out from the rear bay doors into the chamber. There was still Bren's container, with its lid open.

Here too, it was shaking heavily, dust falling down in the dim light. They certainly could not waste any time.

But how would Rayna be sure the container would grant her access to the virtual world? If it was made for healing the mutants –

Then she would need to be wounded.

It felt contrary to all of her training in the UPFF. Self-harm was never an approved tactic.

Rayna remembered Kris teaching her the Turrican suit release control. She felt for the switch, and hit it, and the suit dismantled itself around her.

Almost immediately she began to feel that everything was not alright. Not enough oxygen. She began to feel dizzy. Was that already hurt enough? But she could not take that chance. She ran back into the Katakis, aware that every second wasted was potentially too much.

"Ardon? Do we have any spare guns here?"

They all looked at her with puzzlement.

"What are you planning? There's a phaser gun right here. Thought I'd defend myself against the mutants if it came to that," Ardon said.

Rayna reached into the front, and Ardon handed her the gun.

"Excellent."

This was insanity, Rayna reminded herself. What was she trying to prove? Possibly, nothing. But she thought she was ready for what would come next.

Back at Bren's open container. She still wanted to cause the least harmful wound possible. Though there were no really good options. Anything could cause either limited mobility, or outright loss of life.

She made the choice, positioned herself so that she would fall right into the container if she lost consciousness. Ramming the phaser pistol against her left shoulder, away from bone, she pressed the trigger.

* * *

The place was still coming down, the seconds being wasted, Bren thought. Rayna was trying to get inside the machines' virtual reality. He had no idea how long that would take.

It was already taking too long. Bren retreated as far from the sphere as possible, but still, once in a while a stray bolt of lighting – its very tip – hit him, and the shield meter went down a notch. He could not survive here forever. Red was not that far away.

All of a sudden, he became aware of a foreign thought.

 _Bren?_

That did not sound like the Chillur Empire.

"Rayna? Are you in there?"

 _Think I am. It's a bit weird in here._

"Head below the tower! I think you can walk very fast. Or possibly even fly. How did you even get in there?"

 _I – shot myself. Don't worry,_ _i_ _t's not fatal. I got out of the suit first. So that the machines can't merge me_ _with_ _it._

Fuck. This was certainly not what she should have done. But it was still admirable forward thinking.

 _OK. Think I see something. I'm going through the hallway beyond the pit. It's a large open space. There's some shapes in here – very vague. Are they our people?_

"I believe they are. Their minds got stolen by the machines. It was all agreed upon by the UPFF."

That was what Bren had forgotten to tell until now. And he felt suddenly cold. Was it a fatal mistake, that would demoralize Rayna at this crucial moment, make her just stop on her tracks in that false reality, unable to continue?

 _I see._

That was not the worst response Bren could have imagined. Of course, she was Intelligence, and she certainly had witnessed treachery and power games before. But not likely to this degree.

 _I'm seeing … someone who wants to talk to me?_

* * *

Rayna stood there in the middle of the blinding whiteness. Before her was a petite young woman she did not know, with long green hair.

"You're with the military, right?" she asked.

Rayna was unsure now. Had to be a victim of the machine attacks, somehow transported and re-enacted here. She had every right to be angry at the UPFF, and no obligation to help.

Yet Rayna was aware that on the real machine planet, the seconds were ticking away. She just had to take the chance.

Her voice wavered. "Yes. I've come to shut down the core. Or more precisely, to help Lieutenant Bren McGuire do it."

The woman's eyes lit up. There was a faint smile.

"Follow me."

* * *

Bren still waited. The shield level was in the red now. He could not take many more seconds of this. Would he just have to try and touch the control terminal display at random, hoping it would have some effect?

 _Bren? Still there? We're hovering above the sphere now. That's the core, right?_

"Yes. But we? Who do you mean?"

 _She's from the Starport. Luna. She had a – Katakis waiting, so that we could get here faster. And she's helping me decipher this system._

Bren could not believe what he was hearing. Luna was still there, helping him even now. This too, was more than he could possibly take.

 _It's like the Machine is still plugged in. Even if it's dead. Don't think we can sever the connection. There's no other option but to shut down the whole network!_

"But if we do that, can you get out anymore?"

 _I don't think it's relevant. If we do that, the core should cool down, and the planet will not be destroyed. The UPFF scientists can examine what's left of it, if it can be restarted safely._

"Rayna? I don't want you –"

 _There's no time for this! You need to press the control terminal screen in a sequence. I'm seeing the glyphs here. I will recite them to you. At the top left, do you see, an inverted A letter –_

Fuck. This was not like Bren wanted it to go. But he also knew there was no other way. He could not have much of the shield left at this point, and if they failed to stop the core, they all would die.

"Inverted A confirmed."

 _Press it first._

His Turrican hand went onto the display, and it beeped and flashed in response.

* * *

Finally the sequence was complete. The ambient hum began to lower in pitch, the streaks of lightning appeared no more, and even the sphere began to shrink. Just in time, as Bren saw he had something like one percent of the shield left. One more hit from the electricity, and he would have been toast.

The shaking had subsided completely, and the lights in the chamber began to fade. Not just the network, but the whole machine installation was shutting down.

Bren collected his breath for just one second and looked at the Machine's glove he still had on. It was just inert, gray, oddly flexible alloy now. It could not be of use any more, and Bren let it fall down.

There was still one more reason to not waste time. To get Rayna out of the machines' system. If she was in there without a suit, and it had been shut down, she would eventually suffocate.

Bren launched himself into a shaky run. There was a corridor leading away from the core, but he was not sure where it was leading. Hopefully right back into the octagonal chamber.

Rayna's thoughts came back.

 _We did it, right? It's kind of weird here now. Everything appears to be slowing down. But that's OK. Because I know this isn't real. But out there, life will go on. For you too._

It sounded like she was giving up. And that did not feel right. For you too, Rayna. That was how it was supposed to go.

Bren ran forward in silence. No more thoughts came, so he was left with his own. The overriding one was that if he was to fail this last objective, he would certainly become the cruel, bitter Iron Savior, dealing in just fire and death from within the suit.

* * *

"Now, do you understand what I need to do?" Vadim almost shouted. Juko thought it to be irritating again.

"You'll kill her."

"No. It's a controlled detonation. A precision calculated amount of explosives."

"This is not about collapsing some building! It's an alien construct! Or machine-made. You don't know the material, so you can't know how much is needed!"

Juko knew she was still in a degree of shock from hanging on to the tower outer wall, and Vadim hanging on to his suit. But still she thought her words made sense, and Vadim was displaying unnecessary, potentially fatal bravado. In the worst case they all would be blown up.

Though, she had scanned the container. All the electronic signals had shut down. Through the lid, that was fogged now, she could not even tell if Rayna was breathing any more.

"Fine then. Go ahead."

Juko thought if she had made a serious mistake, trusting the demolitionist's judgment. She saw him take out the bit of plastic explosive, begin cutting and molding it into shape.

Then Juko became aware of heavy footsteps. Bren rushed into the chamber.

"What are you doing?" he shouted.

* * *

Bren understood that this was the true meaning of Luna's dream, the sarcophagus on the empty planet. He thought it was like time stopping still, except it was still ticking for Rayna, each second closer to death.

Vadim was relying on what he knew best, again. He had the remote detonator already in his hand.

Yet it could be a horribly wrong answer.

Bren examined the closed lid of the transparent container, but there was no obvious mechanism to open it. He also tried prying it open with the Turrican hands, but it did not budge. And he was too empty, too tired and exhausted to come up with anything else. Resigned, he backed away and turned to Vadim.

"Do what you do. I will take responsibility."

Then Bren took cover, and Vadim pressed down the red button.

A bang and a flash of light, and the container was covered in smoke. Without waiting for it to clear, Bren rushed back to it. The lid had been dislodged partially, and Bren twisted it open further, until it came loose with force and he fell to the ground with it.

He had to scramble back for the second time, afraid of what he was going to see.

It could have looked worse. It looked like Rayna was just sleeping, though with odd machine-needles going into her skin all over, perhaps most worryingly also in the back of her neck.

Bren scanned for life signs. There was a slow pulse.

"Get the Katakis open!" he shouted, and turned at Vadim briefly. "And thanks!"

"Just doing my job. The only thing I properly know."

Bren was already pulling the needles out one by one. He was potentially doing more damage now, but he could not really afford to hesitate. Hopefully they were only for the VR connection.

"Hang in there. Just a second more," he muttered and lifted Rayna out of the container. The rear door of the Katakis was open, and Bren carried her inside.

Ardon hit the close switch as soon as they were inside. Bren took another look at the pulse monitor. The heart rate was going up. Then he no longer saw clearly, as the tears of joy prevented that. For you too, Rayna.

Bren sat down on the floor of the Katakis, holding her with minimum strength of the Turrican arms, listening to the rhythmic beeping. He could of course not be completely sure, but wanted to think that she would be OK. That they could lift off now, and he would just hold onto her until she woke up. There was a nagging thought at the back of his head that this was potentially excessive, or inappropriate. But at least he was following Kris's request to the full.

"You sure you want to sit like that when we lift off?" Ardon asked from the front. "Never mind. I try to be gentle with the controls."

Just as the engine whine of the Katakis increased, Rayna coughed and began to open her eyes.

"Bren?" she asked.

"It's me. Are you OK?"

Bren really thought he should have had the helmet off. But it was too late now. Actually, he was not sure what would happen without it. Would he drop dead? Were his brains attached? Hopefully not.

"I – didn't know you cared that much for me," Rayna said, both puzzled and a bit detached, and Bren was lost for words.

"Sorry. Just glad that I didn't lose you too," he got out at last.

It was true he had gone overboard. And it was just a very short time since Kris dying. Not that Bren was thinking in that sense, of literally taking his place. He was well aware of his limits. But he had once thought that despite all of her military strength Rayna needed to be hugged, and that was accomplished now. Now he could get back just to the business of being a Turrican.

"Hey. I could think of much worse ways to wake up from a machine-generated world."

Juko crouched next to them.

"Bren's being a little like the Commander in the game he played."

Shut up, Bren thought. But to be honest, it was a welcome distraction from his predicament.

* * *

Naturally they did not have enough fuel for prolonged space travel in the Katakis. Bren's suit power level was also dropping, soon to reach just one third remaining. Therefore Ardon had hailed for any UPFF vessels in the vicinity.

Valhalla was the first to answer.

"I don't like this," Rayna said to Bren and Ardon. "It's General Hummell's flagship. And at this meeting with the Tech division –"

"He and Kurzweil exchanged some very odd glances. That stuck in my mind," Ardon said.

"When they take us in, we should be prepared. They're possible enemies. If we're wrong, no harm done," Rayna said.

"What do you propose?" Bren asked.

Rayna smiled at him a bit. It did not exactly fit the seriousness of the matter, Bren thought.

"Do you know Sun Tzu? The Art of War?"

Bren knew it only roughly. Age-old military tactics, like the basics of leadership. Something that people nowadays would take for granted, but which had been something revolutionary when originally written.

"Not well."

"Never mind. But I suggest we do an attack by stratagem. We still have that phaser gun? It's only for use as a last resort, if we need to relieve Hummell of duty at gunpoint."

Bren thought that seeing Rayna in her element, so full of initiative, made him feel better too. And was that evidence, that he was not a complete machine then, even inside this suit?

After the Katakis had left the planet, they had also talked a bit.

"The last thing I said to him in person, it was probably about the shield level. Just pure combat. And before that, I said something to him that I shouldn't have. And then – he just had to die," Rayna said.

Bren could well relate.

"It's possibly a horrible thing to say, but without those sacrifices – I don't think we'd have beaten the Machine at all. And before Kris went down, he wanted to make sure you'd be in good hands."

"Yeah," Rayna said quietly.

* * *

Their crew of five exited the Katakis and crossed the large hangar bay of the flagship Valhalla, to meet Colonel Kurzweil Hess and Lieutenant-General Theodore Hummell. They stood side by side, in their impeccable Tech division uniforms, while several guards, technicians and medics stood back.

Bren hoped it was a strange enough sight to give them an edge in decision-making and reaction time, if it came to that. There was Ardon with his chest bare and the bandages still wrapped around, Juko and Vadim in their battered Turrican suits walking in the rear, and Bren carrying the unmoving Rayna in her bloodied Intelligence uniform.

Finally everyone came to a halt, and there was only the ambient hum of the hangar machinery.

Theodore spoke. "You have done well. The Machine is no more, and we believe it will not be a terrible inconvenience to get the core started up again. Or alternatively, dismantled and studied and re-engineered. Nothing should be an impossibility. But –"

He looked to Kurzweil, then back at Bren.

"I'm sure you have also – unfortunately – seen or heard things that may never be repeated in the wider UPFF circles. Or, god forbid, to the population at large. There would be a wide-scale collapse of society. A complete loss of trust. Therefore, you are to be detained and subjected to corrective memory manipulation. I hope it doesn't have to come to more – excessive – force than that."

Bren had the helmet on again, just for safety, so he knew his voice would be amplified and distorted, turning into a low inhuman growl if he wanted.

"Or you could have avoided making a deal with the machines in the first place. To provide them with fresh sacrifices. Especially as it was of no use in the end."

Strictly speaking, that was not completely true. At least one sacrifice had been necessary, and it twisted Bren's heart to omit it now. But better not complicate things too much. Bren scanned through the personnel, hoping to see some kind of reaction. Nothing. Would they all stand by Hummell to the end, or was it just too outlandish to believe?

"Maybe you are too encumbered to think clearly," Theodore spoke calmly. "For how long have you been carrying that Intelligence officer? Crew, please see that she gets proper treatment. And that Lieutenant McGuire is – if need be – subdued without an incident."

Bren saw one of the guards approach with a remote control in his hand.

Damn. He had forgotten. They would have the means to shut down a Turrican suit. And in this case, it could mean his death. Theodore also seemed to be going for his sidearm.

The stratagem needed to go into high gear right now.

Bren gave a slight nudge to Rayna, and she took the phaser gun she had been hiding between Bren's suit and her uniform, opened her eyes, and aimed the gun at Theodore before he could get his out.

"Personnel! Do not listen to the Lieutenant-General! He is acting with an unsound mind and is to be relieved of duty!" she shouted.

"Disable them!" Theodore barked, his voice rising.

Bren felt a buzz of electricity, and his legs gave way. Rayna fell with him, but Bren could see the gun was still pointed at Theodore. Then the visor display faded to complete black.

Bren could still hear Rayna's next words, but only barely, as they came muffled and from far away.

"Look at what you're doing! Think of what kind of commands you are willing to obey! This is the Turrican who defeated the Machine. Before that he was wounded and is practically dependent on the suit. He could be dying now, because you disabled him! I agree that possibly, just possibly, everyone does not need to know of what has been going on. But this charade needs to end right now! Those responsible need to stand trial for their crimes against the UPFF! Against all humanity!"

Bren heard weapons being readied. He wanted to shield Rayna with the suit, in the case she would be fired upon, but there was no motion in his metal limbs at all.

She was not finished.

"Do also note that all of us are transmitting live audio through the Link to Major Nova Krieger. Remember, everyone will be judged according to their own actions! Or lack of action!"

This was the part of the stratagem they had been unsure of. But Rayna had vouched for her being clean.

Finally there was another voice. As it was also from close by, it had to be the Tech division Colonel.

"She's right. This has to end, Theodore. The UPFF cannot go on harming its own, compromising itself. Otherwise everything will fall into chaos."

There were more sounds. Possibly that of a struggle. Theodore's voice was angrier and short of breath now.

"All communications within this bay are blocked! Do not believe a word she says! Everyone disobeying will be sentenced to the harshest possible extent! If you ever get out, there will be nothing left of your minds when you've done your time! And Kurzweil, I expected better from you! You were certain it was the choice we needed to make! If I go down, you will go down with me!"

But finally he fell silent, and Bren heard boots scratching on the hangar floor.

"Reactivate Bren's suit right now!" Rayna shouted.

Bren felt another electric jolt, as power came back on. The helmet display returned, and Bren saw Rayna's face hovering close, showing concern.

"I'm OK now," Bren said. "We did it?"

"Theodore's being taken to detention. Kurzweil will be placed under guard too. There needs to be a complete investigation. But yes, you could say we did it."

"Where was it from? That stratagem?"

"Just improvisation … I think. To be honest, it didn't work too well. By the point I got the gun out I thought it would fail totally. I was sure I would be shot."

At those last words, Bren found himself to be hugging Rayna again. He had not even intended that at first, but it just happened.

"You already did that, didn't you?"

Of course. And the stratagem was over already. But Rayna had not meant it in a bad way, actually her voice sounded almost playful.

Then it turned more serious.

"We need to get you to the doctors. The Valhalla is certain to have the best. They'll check on you properly. What the machines did to you, and what can be done to get you out of that suit."

Bren thought. Could he even trust the medical crew? If they stayed loyal to the Lieutenant-General, he might go under the knife to never wake up again. But what choice there was? He would need frequent recharges to keep going until home.

If the answer was potentially so close, that would be a step back. He would just have to take the chance.

* * *

The debriefing sessions were excessive. Even if the UPFF investigators tried to understand the ordeal the five of them had gone through, and kept their tone reasonably friendly.

Rayna was glad that as part of the Avalon 1 mission, she was disqualified from an investigative role herself. All of the work could take months, if not a full year. It was now determined the treachery reached all the way to the Alterra incident, possibly even earlier.

It was a well-deserved break now. Rayna sat with Juko inside a crew room that was almost luxurious, a far cry from anything aboard the Avalon. Bren had been taken to the medical and surgical operations bay; so far there were no news.

"How do you pass the time now?" Juko asked.

"There's not that much spare time. I try to read a bit. Good that the Link works here. At least the restricted library."

"I like to dig up old video games. From the Earth era. Though I always seem to make the worst choices. Like, in this one there's a war between robots on an apocalyptic Earth, and you're one of the androids –"

"It hits too close to home?"

"No, not that. But you have to play it multiple times to reach the true victory. Which, by the way, is just the two androids trying to have their happy ending. And this is the goddamn frustrating bit, that the final enemy is the creators' names! Like credits in a movie, but shooting at you! There's this thing where another player could sacrifice their progress to help you, but of course, a thousand years from release, none of that works. So I've been trying to get through it without any help for the hundredth time or so! Like I said, I always pick the worst ones!"

"That one which you referred to in the Katakis, is it one of the worst too?"

"Yes, if you don't stop early enough."

Rayna could not exactly understand. Why keep doing something frustrating? But she could clearly see how Juko was an extremely valuable member to have on a team, if for not anything else than the moral support. And of course, now she would certainly deserve full Turrican status if she just wanted that.

Juko quieted her voice a bit.

"I think the point I'm trying to make is that sometimes, just sometimes, reality is simpler. I mean, we don't have to go back to the machine-planet multiple times to win."


	15. Ending

**Ending**

Bren was back at the Starport, in the hospital ward of the UPFF Academy. Three months had passed since they had defeated the Machine.

He was on his way to recovery, out of the Turrican suit. In addition to all the other operations, it had required an artificial spine replacement, which was always an extremely delicate operation, since failure certainly meant paralysis.

He could already move without aid, and worked out to regain his strength, according to a careful regimen.

The scars were naturally extensive. Also, a thin metal plate at the base of his neck remained as a reminder of the machines' own procedure. The circuitry had allowed direct neural communication with the suit.

The UPFF technicians had examined it; supposedly Turrican volunteers could agree to have a similar implant installed for the same benefits in reaction time. Bren hoped it would not become mandatory for every Turrican.

Bren also knew he would receive promotion to the rank of Captain. He could have received it already, but wanted to wait until his recovery.

Bren looked at his mirror image. Judging from just the face, it was almost if the mission to the machine planet had never happened. His purple-dyed hair was also just the same it had always been.

The psychological toll was naturally there; in his nightmares Bren often faced the Machine again, the sinister machine-face tormenting him. Sometimes, the dreams took the form of a gauntlet against enemies where he could have a chance to save Kris or even Luna by being fast enough or shooting accurately enough. But he never would. And a couple of times he had revisited the empty planet in the Katakis, and now he knew it would always be Rayna inside the sarcophagus. Then he'd wake up, glad to be back in reality.

At times he thought, somewhat perversely, that what he had experienced was no true test of character. As he had not remained crippled forever. It was a bit similar, of how he had been paranoid of handling Luna's death.

Then, he reminded himself that he had beaten the Machine, and ended the machine threat. He did not want to boast, but it had to be proof of something. Perhaps it was time to put that kind of doubts behind him.

The surviving Avalon 1 crew would visit him often. Ardon was close to retirement, but wanted to remain until the traitors burned, in his own words. The visits of Juko or Vadim were always a source of almost endless humor. The technician and the demolitionist. Two sides of the same coin, Bren thought.

But the most memorable visit had been Rayna after the Valhalla had docked at last. It was beautiful in just a bit melancholy way and also a little bit absurd, if Bren thought back to the whole of it.

* * *

The investigations had proceeded enough to make sure Lieutenant-General Hummell would never taste freedom again. The case against Colonel Hess was more complex: it was certain that he had known of the plans long enough that he should have acted to put a stop to them, even considering the Lieutenant-General's power, and the potentially lethal danger in going against him.

In a way Kurzweil had acted. He had personally ordered the sabotage of the Avalon 1. However, there had been a mistake: it was supposed to have happened much sooner after liftoff. With bad luck it had alerted the Machine's battlecruiser instead, like a fresh carcass.

So he had been hoping for the crew's success, and had wanted to warn them of the treachery within UPFF. With extremely unfortunate results.

It had been a tremendous loss of life, yet there was one thing Rayna had to wonder: would they have achieved the same with the full crew? Would they have been able to beat the Machine and make the core safe? Now they would never know.

At least now there was a full force present, and UPFF engineers were in process of examining and understanding the core.

The tale told to the public of course had to omit much, and Rayna could not deny it left a bad taste in her mouth. She had never sympathized much with the secessionists, but if they were to know the full truth, the UPFF membership might look a lot different in the future.

Still, staying as united as possible was probably the best for humanity.

The Valhalla had docked to the Starport, and Rayna knew Bren would be moved to the Academy's hospital facilities so that his recovery would continue.

She thought that it was only right that he had not needed to stay in the Turrican suit for the rest of his life. After everything he had done to serve humanity, he deserved to exist in fully human form.

Yet, with all of these good news, Rayna thought that she did not quite feel like grounded. So much had changed, and she no longer had the same trust in UPFF as before. She almost equated it to remaining halfway in the machines' white false reality.

Of course, the company of the Avalon 1 survivors helped.

If Rayna wanted to see Bren one more time before he would be moved, she would have to hurry. She accelerated her pace through the Valhalla's corridors.

She knew she had been lucky when shooting herself; it had just required a treatment with a booster drug to speed up the healing and regeneration of muscle tissue. The motion of her left arm was almost up to normal at this point.

She knocked at the door of Bren's room.

"Come in," Bren's voice answered.

Rayna thought she was a bit wary in his company. Why exactly, she could not explain. She thought that on some level she might be comparing him to Kris. Sometimes she even kept questioning whether she should allow herself to visit him at all. It was patently ridiculous, but sometimes the mind just worked in severely counterproductive ways.

Rayna entered.

Bren had been mostly relaxed, even cheerful, ever since the most critical surgeries were over. In the first days, when everything had been hanging in the balance, understandably less so.

If she thought about it too much, she could not understand that here was a war hero who had defeated the Machine, and played a large part in bringing down the traitors within the UPFF, one who should have been decorated and promoted several times, yet here he was, relaxed and modest, often listening to music on his bed.

Rayna sat down to a chair next to him.

"Getting off this bathtub at last," Bren said.

"Yeah. The food is probably going to be better at the Academy."

"But less challenging."

Joking of military food was of course predictable. Still Rayna had to smile.

But Bren looked a bit odd in response.

"What is it?"

"Is it OK if I say that when you smile it looks so – happy, I guess – that it almost makes me sad?"

That was quite ridiculous. But Bren looked very earnest when saying that, and it caught Rayna a bit off guard.

"Be my guest. It's not the worst I've heard."

Somehow the exchange made her think back to her own doubts. She closed her eyes in a hard frown, unable to look at Bren now.

"What's wrong?" Bren asked. "Is there something I can do?"

"No –" Rayna began.

From the next moment she had no precise recollection. Yet somehow she ended up sitting next to Bren on the bed, his right arm wrapped around her.

"It's OK," Bren said. "If there's anything you want to talk of, I will listen."

Rayna was not sure how she would begin. "Can I just sit here and say nothing?" she said. That much she could at least get out.

"Of course. Until they come to take me away."

The silence lasted for some time.

"Hey. Do you want to listen? To this music I'm listening to, I mean?" Bren asked.

"What is it?"

"Gamma Ray. From Earth, a thousand years old. You're not in my Link friend list, so I need to add you first."

Just at that moment that operation felt absurd, and Rayna had to laugh a bit.

"Rayna Becker, UPFF Intelligence. There's not another of you, probably? OK. Request sent."

Navigating the Link menu felt like a challenge now. But at last Rayna got the friend request accepted.

"Thanks. Great. Now you just need to accept the audio feed too."

Bren paused for a while.

"You know, Juko asked me something once. She asked if Gamma Ray had any cute songs. Don't worry, they don't. But there's still a few which are fitting now. A little different. Usually it's only just interstellarian galactical wars. Conspiracies, aliens, heroes, that kind of stuff."

By this point Rayna felt more like her usual self again. Bren's description sounded excessive. Though probably right at home on a Turrican war hero's playlist.

"OK. This is the more mellow one. It's called Lake of Tears, but I'm not actually trying to make you cry, or anything like that. I was going to listen to these songs anyway. But if you want to remember someone, it might be fitting."

Rayna accepted the audio feed request, and the song began playing. The instruments were unfamiliar to her, but the beginning sounded grandiose. Then it quieted down, as the singing began.

She thought it could have been about Kris. Though, the song seemed to had been written about a long enduring struggle of love, which theirs was not. From the lyrics, it was uncertain which way it would end. From just the song name, not well. But to be honest, Rayna did not feel like crying.

"Are you thinking of Luna?" she asked.

Bren did not answer immediately.

"Not really. Or maybe a little."

There was a long and epic instrumental part, in which the tempo sped up for a while.

"But I got to see her again in the machines' VR. I understand most people never get that kind of chance."

The song slowed down to its end.

"The next one is a bit more upbeat," Bren said.

It began with a wind sound and a flute melody, which was then repeated by the other instruments. The lyrics seemed to be about some kind of prophecy, a savior-like, misunderstood figure.

"Send Me a Sign?" Rayna asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of cryptic. Could be about that guy three thousand years ago. But it's a beautiful melody."

Rayna listened. The line "for too long you kept me waiting" somehow got to her. Rayna thought that it was about her own doubts. That she could keep waiting for however long, yet nothing would necessarily change.

There was a knock on the door.

"Lieutenant McGuire, we need to transport you now!" came the heavy voice from the other side of the door.

Rayna was a little disappointed. They had not managed to finish the song.

"If you want, you can walk along," Bren said.

"Sure."

Rayna stood up from the bed. Just as the two orderlies came in, she noticed a piece of paper on top of the drawers. Paper was rarely used any more, so it was curious.

"What's this?"

Bren looked somewhat embarrassed.

"It was for the surgeon. I got it back at last. While in the suit, it was easier to draw with a pen."

On it was a diagram with stick figures, and arrows indicating – forces? Years ago, Rayna had studied elementary physics as a part of officer training. There was the letter N after each quantity, which stood for Newton.

The orderlies disengaged the brakes from Bren's bed and were about to begin moving him.

Meanwhile Rayna studied the diagram a bit more and blushed as she understood it better. Bren looked at her and looked more embarrassed, too. But apparently he still wanted to explain.

"It's a – load calculation for the artificial spine. I know the replacements are still not up to spec at times. So I discussed with the surgeon and – I could have picked something else. Like the maximum forces when you transform into the Turrican wheel. But – I went with that. Not sure if I got it exactly right."

"So you –"

Rayna had a bit of difficulty with the words. Then she just had to spit them out.

"You wanted to make sure you would be able to carry someone who is suspiciously my height and weight?"

The orderlies looked at her now, somewhat amused.

"When I waited for the first surgery, I thought back to how we took down Theodore. l remember the look on your face when you first explained it. And I thought that if I was not going to remain trapped, as the Iron Savior – that's another Earth-era German band by the way – I'd like to do that again some day," Bren said.

"We really need to move the Lieutenant now," the shorter of the orderlies said.

"Sure, go ahead," Rayna replied. "Don't let me disturb."

To be honest, she had kind of brought this upon herself. It was inevitable they would return to the stratagem.

They left into the corridor, headed for the medical bay exit. As Rayna walked along, she thought it was all getting ridiculous. First the Gamma Ray songs, then this. It was like an overload of ridiculous. And she thought, how to end it the quickest and get back on track with herself?

Right at that moment she could not think of anything else but to jump back on Bren's bed while it was in motion. Another very professional move. She could tell that the orderlies were not happy, but they kept their silence just for now.

Even Bren was a little puzzled.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told that," he said.

"No, it was good to know. Funny, too. And it reminds me a bit of Kris. Like, how I shot his Turrican weapon –"

Rayna could not finish the sentence, as she had to close her eyes in the face of approaching tears. It seemed there was no easy way getting back on track.

"Shit," she got out.

She sensed Bren put both of his arms around her now. Rather light, yet it felt warm and comforting.

"What about we make a deal? Don't try to force yourself to forget, or anything. I could never ask you that. But –"

Rayna opened her eyes again and looked at him. She thought she felt that same kind of unsure rush of emotion, as in the automated cargo transport, but for a different reason. And Bren appeared unsure too.

"- I don't want to let go of you either. How does that sound?"

Rayna observed the Valhalla corridors zoom by, unable to answer immediately. And she thought that the uneasiness was dissipating now, being replaced by just warmth. That in Bren's company, there was no reason to feel uneasy. It was the best she thought to have felt since leaving the machine planet.

* * *

 **Mid credits scene**

"Sir, is it true that your suit is a special cyber-engineered prototype and you connect your neural system to it directly?" one of the students asked Bren, who was standing on the podium, giving a lecture on Turrican tactics.

Bren was not completely sure of what he was allowed to tell. He looked to Ardon C. Striker to his right. Ardon should have retired already, but apparently it was just too hard to let go.

He gave a nod, and Bren answered.

"It's not a prototype in the sense that UPFF would have it modified to work like that. Instead, the machines did."

There were visible and audible horrified reactions from the audience. Bren found it hard to keep a straight face.

* * *

 **Post credits scene**

"No!" Rayna shouted. "That's just the same explosion in another color!"

"I didn't tell you to play to the end," Bren said. "Juko warned you too, right? Like she warned me."

"Yes – but all the alliances I made, what did they amount to? All the choices. Like, that kind of build-up, and then they deliberately pull the rug from under you! It wouldn't matter if it was bad in the first place, but it wasn't, up until now!"

Bren almost opened his mouth to say something. That Rayna was acting almost precisely like a certain Earth-era dictator in a series of spoof videos, that had endured in the Link archives. But it would have been possibly unwise. Seriously unwanted information.

He was just content with having her sitting in his lap, while she had experienced the finale of that piece of – rather polarizing entertainment. And she was always somewhat funny when agitated. Though enjoying that could be interpreted as mean. Bren kissed her forehead and hair just a bit, but she appeared already calmed down.

"I wonder, is there anything that would resemble our mission?" Rayna asked.

Bren was not sure if that was a good idea, at all. But possibly, she was just psychologically much stronger than he was.

She was clearly navigating the archive menu now. Bren switched to her Link view to be able to see.

"What's this?"

She had scrolled up to the letter F in _Library_ _/ Video games / Legacy systems /_ _199x_ _/ Sort by Developer._

"Hmm. Never heard of them," Bren said, as he took in the name highlighted in the center. "Could be worth trying."

The center of the view read:

 _F_ _ACTOR_ _5_


End file.
